


hard reset

by applecrumbledore



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: 15 years post-canon, Canon Compliant, Future Fic, M/M, Series Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-12
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-02-13 19:17:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 50,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12990768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/applecrumbledore/pseuds/applecrumbledore
Summary: “I thought it would be worth it to give it up, but it's not,” Roy whispered. “Nothing is worth this.” He needed one flickering moment of hope in which he believed he wasn't a sad, desperate old man who had put his life on hold for a career that meant less to him every day, only to learn that he had run out of life to live.“What are you talking about?” Ed breathed. “What did you give up?”You, Roy wanted to say,or something like you.





	1. breakdown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel like future fics always tend to bring underage characters juuuust up to legal but i wanted to look at these two as ADULT adults. i don't read much fic so i'm sorry if this has been done. talks about depression and politics but if you've read anything of mine you know i can't do sad endings. 
> 
> major end-of-series spoilers, manga/brotherhood universe.

Roy would read in the newspaper about new bills being passed in parliament before he’d even heard of them. Over the past fifteen years, the legislative assembly had wrestled power back from the military, and rightfully so. Amestris was taking strides towards becoming a real democracy and regular elections were being held for the first time in Roy’s lifetime, he just wasn't the one being elected.

“We just don't have anything in place for this,” Prime Minister Hudson told him, sitting on the other side of his desk in the parliament building, a beautiful, recently-renovated structure to the north of Central in which Roy felt too stuffy in his uniform. “Yourself and the Führer… We have the utmost respect for you both as the highest ranking officers in the country, but the fact of the matter is that the military has no say in lawmaking. It can't. Not even for an esteemed field marshal such as yourself. You understand that.”

Hudson was, at forty, five years Roy’s junior. It had always stung.

“Of course,” Roy said, standing. “I know you must be sick of having me come in here, sir, and I appreciate the audience. I just know we’re both working towards a better Amestris, the _same_ Amestris, and I thought… Well. I don't know what I thought.”

“I’m happy to keep discussing this with you and your team, but I’m not sure what conclusion we’ll come to.” Hudson was a slim, progressive-looking man; he didn't even wear a suit jacket. Roy felt like a hulking relic in his presence. “Things are… different now.”

“I understand,” Roy said, because he did. He'd certainly heard it enough times.

“And for the sake of transparency, we shouldn't have these meetings in private anymore. You understand.”

Private meetings were all Roy had ever known, but he said, “Of course,” and left the room.

Amestris was changing and Roy was proud, but for the past five years, he'd lived with the sneaking suspicion that he'd hitched his wagon to the wrong horse and that terrified him.

It was early autumn and still warm enough for him to walk back to his own office. He took the long way around, stopped for a coffee and lit a cigarette. He couldn't remember exactly when he’d started smoking again; a minor habit from his youth that rose up now and again in times of stress. He had been smoking for at least two straight months this time around, which wasn't good.

His assistant and right-hand man, Daniel, greeted him when he stepped into the ante room outside his office.

“Good afternoon, sir. Everything go alright with the PM?”

Daniel was a willowy young man with watery blue eyes and fine hair, pretty in the way that your mother’s bone china suits her, smart as a whip and irritatingly thoughtful. Roy chose him for the role because he reminded him of Alphonse Elric, which was one of the highest compliments he could pay a person.

“Fine, thank you.”

“If you have a moment, we can go over your week. You had a couple calls over the weekend.”

“Fabulous. Let me get settled first.”

He hung his coat up in his office, pulled the blinds up and tidied the papers on his desk into piles that implied order. Daniel came in a few moments later and went over his commitments for the week and Roy tried to pay attention.

“And I know there was one more thing.” Daniel shuffled through the papers slipped into his unkempt daytimer, peeling each back to look at what was written on the calendar underneath. “Right, right. Mr. Elric requested a meeting for later this week, between Wednesday and Friday.”

Roy looked up from the row of flowers he was doodling at the bottom of his memo pad.

“Which one?”

“He didn't specify a preference for the date, sir. Just an hour block of time.”

“I mean, which Elric brother?”

“Uh—” The young assistant checked his notes again. “Dr. Elric, sorry. That's what I wrote down.”

“ _Which_ Dr. Elric, Daniel?”

“I…” Daniel blanked. “I didn't think to ask, sir. My apologies.”

Roy sighed. “It's alright. You spoke to him on the phone?”

“Yes, sir. This morning.”

“If you had to choose, would you say he sounded chipper and polite, or nasal and crass?”

Daniel looked physically pained by the question.

“I mean no disrespect, but… the second one, sir.” A look of realization crossed his features. He got out his pen and spoke aloud as he corrected his notes. “Dr.… _Edward_ … Elric.”

Roy returned to his flowers.

“There you go. Am I free Friday at four? It's always best to make him wait.”

Roy didn’t need to say that he would meet Ed on the street outside headquarters and then go to dinner, because that’s what they always did. Roy locked up his office, made his way slowly through the grounds and stepped out onto the street at five after four. He still had time for a smoke before Ed showed up. Ed was, as always, a vision—honey-gold eyes and a finely lined face, sharp features, wry lips, his tangle of straw-blond hair knotted into a braid that hung to the middle of his back and was never brushed right. He wore a boxy tan duster over a sweatshirt and slacks. His worn leather boots were well-oiled and his watch was ugly and large. He was only half a head shorter than Roy but, at thirty, he wouldn't get any taller. Despite what he occasionally told people.

“Mustang,” he said, a teasing lilt to his tone. Never _Roy_. “Been a while.”

Roy greeted him with the same impish tone, “Dr. Elric,” like he always did, because he still remembered when Ed was ten years old, two-limbed and hardly taller than his hip, and he found this delightful. “That it has. How’ve you been?”

“The usual,” Ed said as they started walking down the block. “A paragon of virtue and the greatest mind of my generation. How about you?”

“Are we close enough in age to be considered the same generation?”

“If you're saying you've got me beat, you clearly didn't read my last paper close enough.”

“I think the weeks I spent editing it counts as a close enough read, thank you very much.”

Ed grinned. “Good to see you,” he said, and he meant it. Roy usually believed that he did.

“It's good to see you, too, Edward,” said Roy. Always _Edward._

Ed wanted to try a new Aerugonian restaurant that opened on other side of the city, so they hailed a cab. As soon as they were in the back and speeding through Central’s rain-wet streets, Ed pulled his braid over his shoulder and shook it out.

“I tied it weird on the train and something’s been pulling ever since,” he said, running his fingers through the knots. “It gives me a headache like you wouldn’t believe.”

Roy watched him. Once he was done raking through it he started braiding it again and the quick twists of his fingers were hypnotizing.

Roy said, “You think you’d be good at it by now. I think you may have gotten worse.”

“Well, fun fact: Al used to do it for me. When I was a kid it was long enough to braid, but not long enough to swing over my shoulder, so I couldn’t do it myself.” Ed tugged on the braid in question, which was now more than long enough. “Even with the armor-hands, he was better at it than me.”

“He’s always been the more meticulous brother.”

“Yeah. S’why he makes such a great pediatrician. Can’t complain.” Ed finished his braid and snapped a tie around the end. “This has been _Edward Elric’s Little Known Hair Facts_. Stay tuned text week for an episode on how I trim the ends all by myself.”

Roy laughed. He glanced out the window to watch the city zip by and when he looked back at Ed, Ed was already looking at him.

“How’ve you been?” Ed asked.

“We already did this bit,” Roy said. “You’re a paragon of virtue and one of us may or may not be the greatest mind of our collective generation.”

Ed looked too serious for Roy’s liking. “That was us doing me. How are _you?”_

“I’m fine, Edward.” He let his eyes soften as much as he dared. “Just a bit stressed. Thank you for asking.”

“It’s that time of year, eh? Grants due, acquisitions, reports. Whatever else it is that you do. I can’t wait to hear about all your stupid military garbage over dinner. You’re my favourite thing about coming back to this stupid city.”

Roy sighed a whistling sigh. “Always a pleasure.”

The restaurant was a little more formal than they were used to visiting but Ed didn’t seem to mind. They got a table near a large-leafed waxy plant and Roy got to look out at the street. Aerugonian cuisine was rich, starchy and saucy, and Roy wasn’t especially hungry but he wasn’t about to complain because they had some of the finest wines in the world. Him and Ed chatted idly and a server took their order, returned with a bottle of wine, then left again.

Ed looked tired but Roy wasn’t about to comment on it. As rarely as they saw each other, Roy had learned to differentiate the stressed-exhausted Edward in the middle of a project who snapped at him from the happy-sated Edward in the months following a project who babbled dreamily from the week-two-of-insomnia Edward who had memories of things that never happened. Roy respected all the Edwards equally, but he had his favourite. The Ed who sat across from him then was not babbling dreamily.

“And he just straight up tells me that there's no money in it, point blank. And that's the _only_ reason they're not going for it,” Ed spat.

“You're joking.”

“Dead serious. So I tell him that this is fucking bioalchem, not the South Central School of Business Administration, and I didn't go to university for ten fucking years to write profit and loss statements for some two-bit company that makes multivitamins.”

“Your role does involve business plans, to some extent,” Roy said, pouring another glass of wine. “To be perfectly fair.”

“There's a huge difference between determining whether the new equipment you're developing is a low enough cost to be viable in labs across the country versus passing on a project because it won't make you rich, and you fucking know it.”

“I know.”

When Ed was twenty-three, his doctoral dissertation accidentally pioneered a new sub-field of chemistry, biophysical alchemistry, which dealt with the role alchemy played during chemical reactions; when one thought of alchemy purely as a weapon, as the military did, they were more concerned about combustion rates than any of the finer chemical details. Seven years later, Ed was head of the alchemistry department at the University of Northern Creta and nearly a household name, a figurehead of the “better living through alchemy” movement. _All technology STARTS in the military,_ Ed had said more times than Roy could count, on TV, radio and to him personally. _But it never, ever stops there._ He was kinder about the military than many were nowadays. Roy remembered watching him on a Saturday morning talk show following the conclusion of one of his first projects some five years ago. _I don't regret my time in the military_ , he’d said, leaning lazily back into his armchair. His hair was shorter then, cut just above his shoulders during a fit of panicky desperation following a series of failed tests. _They gave me the tools, structure and resources to get what I needed in life, and at such a young age. It was mutually beneficial. I’ll never be able to thank them enough for that._

The food was good and Ed talked animatedly about his work and life in Creta and was skimpy, as always, on the personal details. Roy didn’t know what his home looked like or whether he was seeing anyone, but he could explain to others in excruciating detail what Ed was working on at any given time. He found himself speaking less than he might have on another one of Ed’s visits, but that was fine. Ed talked enough for both of them.

Once their plates were taken away, Roy excused himself for the washroom. He washed his hands, caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and nearly gasped. He didn’t remember ever looking so old or so exhausted; his skin was waxy and pale and hung at his jaw where it used to be taut. His hair was going grey unevenly and streaked silver more heavily near his part. He looked exactly how he felt.

He returned to their table and before he even sat down, Ed asked, “Are you okay? Seriously.”

Roy settled slowly into his chair.

“Of course. Why, am I not allowed use the washroom anymore?”

“I,” Ed started, leaning his chair back on two legs, “have not had a single glass of that wine.”

Roy looked at the bottle. It was almost empty.

“Right,” he said tightly.

“You didn’t notice that I haven't had any. Normally you're a good host and I _know_ you find me hilarious when I drink, so you not offering me any means, one, that you're stuck in your own head, and two, that you're more focused on getting drunk than you are on… well, anything else. Am I wrong?”

Roy looked up from the wine bottle. Ed was staring at him, serious but not angry, not judgmental but not particularly worried, either. Observant. Waiting.

Roy picked up the bottle with its dregs in the bottom.

“I’m sorry. Would you like some?”

Then, Ed was angry.

“Alright, cool! Nevermind. I go out on a limb to ask a single question about your well-being, for whatever _that's_ worth, and you wanna pretend like I’m some idiot who doesn't know you at all! Shut me up, then! My fuckin’ bad.” He let his chair clatter back to the floor. “I know you and I don't talk about our feelings or whatever, but to be honest, you're freaking me out. You look like shit and you're obviously smoking again. You don't have to talk to me, but don't play dumb.”

Roy held his breath. He thought about how long it had taken to get an audience with Hudson only to be told that legislation in the country he’d given his life for was none of his business. He wondered if he looked like shit then, if Hudson could smell smoke on his jacket and see the bags under his eyes. Had Ed thought about anything else all night? Did he look like he needed help? _Did_ he need help?

He slammed his hands flat on the table and blamed the bottle of wine in question.

“Okay, let’s talk. About _what?_ Since you're so damn invested,” he snarled. “Would you like to hear about how my entire fucking life is falling apart? How hard it's been to fall asleep _and_ get out of bed these past few years? _Years_.” It came out before he could stop himself. His voice dropped to an incensed hiss and he leaned in to make himself heard. “Or maybe something more personal? What about how I can't even _look at myself_ most days? Take your pick. Now that I've drank your wine, it's _serious_.”

The anger instantly fell from Ed’s face; there was only enough for Roy.

“Jesus Christ,” he said, hushed. “Alright, sorry. I’m sorry, I—fuck, what’s going _on_ , Mustang?”

Roy said nothing. The adrenaline from his outburst made his hands shake and he clasped them under the table so Ed wouldn't see.

Ed said, “This isn't a ‘middle of the restaurant’ conversation, is it?”

“I don't think so.”

Ed twisted around in his seat to get the waiter’s attention and didn't say anything else to Roy, who appreciated it immensely. When Roy got his wallet out to pay for both their meals, Ed didn't fight him on it for the first time in the many years they'd known each other, and Roy appreciated that, too.

He stormed down the street ahead of Ed, who tried valiantly to keep up.

“Mustang!” he called. “Slow down! Christ, you can move when you want to. You know I’m an invalid!”

“Go home,” Roy shouted, his lungs burning, his head spinning with shock and shame. “I apologize for my outburst. I’m leaving. I’ll see you another time.”

“Like fuck you will!” Ed caught up with him and grabbed the sleeve of his coat. “Talk to me! What were you saying back there? You—you can’t sleep? Your _life_ is falling apart?”

Roy turned around to face him and was grateful for the low light of the street they stood on so Ed couldn’t see his pink, blotchy face. The sun had set an hour ago and it was all shadow now.

“I misspoke,” Roy tried. “I was being dramatic and I’m sorry. Now can we _please_ —”

Ed cut him off. “You’re always like this. You’ve been feeding people bullshit for so long about how you’re so smooth and put-together that you forget that you’re _not_ , and you can—you can be fucked up sometimes, Mustang. We’re all fucked up! I don’t know.” He stuck his hands in his pockets. “I went to counselling for PTSD and stuff. You know. After everything. It’s not _bad_ , it’s just… one of those things.”

Roy spoke through his teeth. “I’m intimately familiar with PTSD, Edward, thank you. If you don’t mind, I’m—”

“Talk to me,” Ed insisted. “Try me. Please.”

The obvious desperation in Edward Elric being _polite_ cracked Roy in two. He spun in an agitated circle and Ed let go of his coat. He pulled his smokes from his pocket and lit one with a snap of his fingers.

Ed opened his mouth to speak and Roy barked, “If you’re about to chide me for smoking can I _please_ remind you that it's not the fucking time?”

Ed held up his hands. “Alright. Sorry. Yeah. Go.”

“Thank you.” Roy raked his hand through his hair. “I don’t… know where to start. I don’t know. It’s about work—well, sort of. After Bradley, everything changed. Amestris doesn’t deserve a military dictatorship, it _doesn’t,_ but in my youth and—and up until very recently—or, maybe I never thought about it, I don’t know. It would be better if I’d never considered it, but what kind of a leader would that make me?”

“Didn’t consider _what?”_ Ed asked, like he was afraid of the answer. Roy paced around in front of him, refusing to look at him.

“That… that I should never have wanted to be Führer,” Roy whispered. When he said it, it was the first time he’d ever thought it. He was staring down at the smoke in his gloved fingers and not at Ed, never at Ed. “I should have seen that it was an oppressive, soon-to-be obsolete position. Why should Amestris be a military state? Why was that _ever_ the norm?”

“Mustang…”

“We’ve been at peace for, what, ten years, now? Give or take? After Grumman made peace with Xing, and then the Ishval separation movement and the peace treaty with Creta—people are _happy_. This is the way it’s supposed to be, that’s not what’s wrong, it’s us. It’s _me._ It’s the military. In times of peace—the way things _should_ be—we’re a flawed power. I never, ever should have been here.”

“You couldn’t have—”

“Which means it’s all been for nothing,” Roy rasped, whirling around, frantic. “My goals mean nothing now. I’ve spent my whole life—” He took a step closer. He didn’t care that Ed could see his hands shaking. “—my _whole life,_ Edward—working towards something that won't get me what I wanted when I started out. Let's say I am Führer in three or five or ten years. Who am I? What change can I affect? Now, I’m the second-highest ranking military officer in a country that doesn’t and shouldn’t want me. Then, I’ll be a portrait they hang in primary schools. An old man. I can't—I can’t help anyone. I’m on the wrong side of history, another link in a chain of sad, old monsters who thought that anyone gave a shit about their horrible, backwards ideas, and I can't—I _can't—_ ”

Ed grabbed him by both his arms.

“It's _okay!_ It’s okay, listen to me, alright? You—get a seat on the legislative assembly! Run for office, it's not too late! You'd get in! Mustang, c’mon, that's what you were always good at! That politics shit! And everybody loves you, you can start again over there and really make—really change—”

Roy threw his cigarette to the ground nearly un-smoked and fisted one hand in Ed’s jacket and the other in the thick knot of hair above his braid, glossy and coarse in his fingers like a lion’s mane. He heard Ed stop breathing.

“I have given up _everything_ , Edward. I’m too…”

He couldn't say _old_. He couldn't say that there was so much of himself that he'd never allowed to grow, so much of himself that had been hidden for so long that he wouldn't know how to express it even if he could. There was something inside him that reared its head when he saw a couple his age holding hands in the park, when a man he worked with would squeeze his arm in greeting, when he watched Ed plait his hair in the taxi before dinner. He couldn't tell him that he'd put his life on hold for a career that meant less to him every day, only to learn that he had run out of life to live. Not when Ed already looked horrified and panicked, clutching Roy the way someone would clutch at a suicide jumper which, Roy figured, was fair.

“What are you talking about?” Ed whispered. “Mustang, you're _fine,_ you're okay, alright? Please, come on.”

He focused on the feel of Ed’s hands around his arms and tried to remember the last touch he'd been given that wasn't a handshake. He focused on Ed’s hair between his fingers and Ed’s racing breath on his face. It grounded him at the same time that it made everything much, much worse.

“I've never been myself,” Roy said, and it sounded like he was pleading but he didn't know what for. “I've never been able to be myself and that scares me. I've shoved it all down into secrecy for—for whatever it was I thought I was doing, and now if that's gone, I’m just— _regular_ alone. I’m not alone for a noble cause, I’m just—”

He realized suddenly what he was pleading for: he needed Ed to understand. Without saying it, he needed Ed to get what he was getting at. He needed Ed to feel as howlingly lonely and confused as he was, he needed reciprocity, he needed one flickering moment of hope in which he believed he wasn't a sad, desperate old man who wasted his youth climbing to the top of a military dictatorship and left behind trust, happiness and love. Ed also lived somewhat of a public life and he was full of his own demons, he had to understand.

“I thought it would be worth it to give it up, but it's not,” Roy whispered, his clutching fingers growing weak. “Nothing is worth this. I’m so, so…”

Ed’s eyes were syrupy honey-gold, even in panic, and Roy wanted to drown in them.

“Lonely,” Roy finished. He was tiny, broken, two feet tall. In that moment—him and Ed grappling at each other, hearts racing, breath choking, both trying and failing to calm down—he had nothing to lose. “Do you know what I mean?”

He regretted asking as he watched Ed’s face change from panicked devastation to something guarded and confused. Roy had spelled it out for him. He'd said _lonely_ and _secrecy_ , and everyone knew that both heads of state and elected officials were encouraged to have wives and families. Ed wasn't stupid. Ed had known Roy for a very, very long time.

They held each other for three more beats of Roy’s struggling heart and Ed’s silence made it feel longer than the rest of his life put together. His back ached from the bend he put in it and his feet were unsteady under him.

“I don't know,” Ed breathed. “What did you give up?”

_You,_ Roy wanted to say, _or something like you._

The boy who yelled all the time had become a man who wore his heart on his sleeve and Roy could always read Ed’s expression. He wondered if he couldn't read Ed’s expression in that moment because he'd never seen Ed pity him before.

He let him go. He stumbled to his feet. Ed kept his hands outstretched as if to steady him and the word _humiliated_ failed to cover Roy like a too-small blanket, not even close to encompassing the yawning emptiness that swallowed him down. He realized that there was a small, pathetic part of him that thought that Ed’s arrival in Central meant something more, that he was somehow there to save Roy from a hell he didn't know he was in. He had hoped for it and that made him sick.

“Mustang,” Ed said, hardly audible. Roy had pulled his hair half loose of its tie in his frantic grabbing. “Hey. It's okay. I’m listening, just slow down, alright?”

“I have to go,” Roy choked out, running a panicked hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. I can't be here. I can't…”

“Let me grab a cab, we’ll go—”

“No. No, I—I’ll see you later.”

Roy was walking down the plush carpets of the building his office was in and it frightened him how little he remembered getting there. He watched the carpet move by under his feet and it was like he was seeing signs of the military’s excessive extravagance for the first time. The hall was lit only by the dim, orange lamps that stayed on after hours as security patrolled the building; it was late but not very late and he could hear typewriters behind the closed doors he passed.

He didn’t know why, but he was going to sleep in his office. The thought of bearing his empty house alone was overwhelming.

He fumbled his key in the door to the ante room before his office and heard a quiet, “Hello?” from the other side. Before he could flee or open the door, Daniel was there. “Sir! What are you doing here? I thought you left hours ago!”

“I… did.” Roy’s head was cottony, his tongue heavy and slow. “I was just… getting something. From my office.”

Daniel stepped warily out of the way and let Roy enter. His work station sat off to one side of Roy’s door and his desk lamp was the only thing lighting the small room. Roy wondered, not for the first time, why he had someone like Daniel working for him, why anyone in the military would need someone to do busy-work for them. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d really accomplished anything and that feeling of stagnancy crept into his bones like a chill.

“You don’t look well, sir,” Daniel said, following him through the room. “Here, sit. What do you need from your office? I’ll grab it.”

“My…” Roy searched for something, anything. He felt so strange, like someone was sitting on his chest, like his heart was racing even though he stood still. “Never mind.”

He sat heavily on the loveseat across from Daniel’s desk and put his head in his hands.

“Here, look up.” Daniel knelt on the carpet in front of him and gently touched his shoulder. Roy did as he was told. Daniel was a foot away, peering into his eyes. “Did something happen? You’re sweating.” Daniel laughed softly. “I still remember some medical training from my cadet days. Let me check—”

Roy had nothing left in him. At that moment, that's all there was to it. He was empty. He took Daniel’s face in his hands and crushed their lips together.

Daniel made a sound against his mouth, stiffened for a second, then sunk into him. His thin fingers ran up Roy’s lapels and they were cold in his hair.

He gasped against Roy’s lips. “Roy, I _always—_ ”

Roy kissed him again to keep him from speaking. He opened his eyes just a bit and if he kept them unfocused, all he could see was blond.

Roy knew that most of his life was built on a precarious tower of luck, and that hard work was just the flimsy scaffolding holding it together in parts. He'd done things for which he should have been punished much more harshly by fate, and he always expected it to catch up with him someday.

He would always remember the following moments with startling clarity, long after he forgot the feeling of Daniel’s open mouth or his hands in his hair. The door to the hallway opened and three women from the typing pool walked in. Daniel started to pull away and Roy’s hazy, panicked mind made him slow. One woman yelped and dropped the stack of papers she was holding. The other two covered their mouths. Roy and Daniel just sat there, and Roy wasn't sure of exactly what happened next.  
  


—  
  


On the first day, only women from the typing pool looked at him funny. On the second, it was everyone he passed in the compound. On the third, it was in the tabloids. The three women hadn't been close with one another, which somehow bolstered the truth of their claim, and he hadn't slept with any of them, which also worked in their favour. _Field Marshal Roy Mustang’s Sordid Gay Affair_. Interviews with the women who had seen it. Interviews with people whom Roy had never spoken to, but who had a lot to say about his past relationships. Interviews with people who knew Daniel. And so it went. Roy saw his name on the cover of a tabloid on his way to work on the third day, turned immediately around and went back home.  
  


—  
  


He knew enough from past trauma to know that he was in shock, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He couldn’t bring himself to do anything at all and the depth of his interior deadness didn't even alarm him. He sat at his kitchen table and listened to his phone ring and ring and ring. Eventually, someone came to the door. Eventually, Roy was suspended from duty for three months without pay in lieu of any kind of real mental health leave. Eventually, he stopped leaving his house.  
  


—  
  


He had a personal phone line that only rang in his bedroom as opposed to the more public line that rang in his study and could be found by an operator. When the phone in his bedroom rang, he stuck a hand out from under his quilt and answered it, knowing there was only a few people in the world it could be.

“H’lo?”

_“Oh, Roy.”_

Roy’s heart ached. Riza sounded as though she might cry.

“Hello. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

She made a noise that sounded like a wet, snuffling laugh. “Roy, don't. My God, are you alright?”

“No,” Roy said, still completely under the blankets. It felt good to say _no_. “No, I’m not. Thank you for asking.”

“How on earth could this—this—”

“—This catastrophic of a fuck-up happen to someone who should, by all accounts, be extremely well-versed in fuck-ups?”

It took her a moment. “Yes.”

Roy peeled the edge of the quilt back and squinted into the dim of his bedroom; piles of clothes on the floor, dirty plates, ringed coffee mugs. He'd started smoking indoors and the mugs were full of stale cigarette butts. He couldn't even bring himself to care about how the value of his home was depreciating because of it.

“I’m collapsing in on myself like a dying star,” he said quietly. “I just _can't_ anymore, Riza. It’s as much of an open-and-shut case as if it were down to a science. I just… I can't.”

He and Riza had discussed his sexuality only in brief moments and never sober. She didn't press and he didn't want her to, but he knew that she knew and there was a time when that had been enough.

“Have you been discharged?” she asked quietly. “I couldn't find anything in the news.”

“Not yet. There's nothing they can do legally, but I imagine they'll play the ‘unfit for duty’ card if they want to. Mental health reasons on paper, and off the record… well.”

“Right.” Riza sighed. Roy retreated back under the covers. “Tell me what I can do.”

“Invent a time machine and take me back to when we were twenty-five, I had the body of an Olympic swimmer and you ran damage control on my life as your full-time job.”

“I can come b—”

“No. Do not abandon your position and your life to come clean up after me. Not again.”

“Just for a couple weeks. I have vacation saved. Mark could come.”

“I need to grow up, Riza.”

“It wouldn't be cleaning up after you, it would be _being there for you_ , my oldest and dearest friend.” She paused and static roared over the line. “I hope you know the difference.”

“He quit,” Roy said suddenly. “The man, Daniel, he quit.”

Riza didn't say anything right away. “I see.”

“He had goals in the military, too, and I dragged him into my mess for no reason. We weren’t together. I certainly don't feel anything for him, I hardly liked spending time with him. And now he's dropped everything and gone back to—to—lord, I don't even know where he's from.” He rolled over onto his front. “I'm not making this anyone else’s problem. Please. I’ll call you, but I can't see you. Please don't come.”

Riza sighed and Roy knew the sound well. The particular tone of resignation when someone had weighed the pros and cons of dealing with him, and the cons had won.

“But what will you _do?”_ she asked. Roy’s voice was muffled by his pillow.

“I have absolutely no idea.”  
  


—  
  


Riza called once every few days. One day, the phone rang twice in one hour and woke Roy up from the permanent nap that he only left to eat or use the bathroom. He slapped a hand out on the nightstand, groped for the phone and answered it.

“Riza, I can guarantee that my life is no less of a stinking pit than it was twenty minutes ago, but I appreciate you being so thorough about checking in.”

The dry chuckle that came through the line wasn't Riza’s.

“It's Ed, but thanks for the update.”

Roy was so suddenly and violently embarrassed that he wanted to scream.

“Goodbye,” he choked out and went to hang up the phone.

“ _Wait!_ ” Ed screeched, and Roy heard him even with the phone away from his ear. “ _Wait, wait, wait, Mustang, c’mon! Talk to me!_ ”

Roy brought the receiver back to his ear. “I have nothing to say to you, Edward.”

“I don't care!”

“I do. I've embarrassed myself in front of the entire continent and I think I deserve the luxury of not giving a fuck about what you have to say.”

“You haven't left your house in a week, have you?” Ed said. Roy rolled over.

“You've spoken with Riza.”

“No, I just know what depression looks like.”

The word stung. Roy felt like an idiot.

“Congratulations,” he spat. “You solved the puzzle. You get to be right, again. Are you finished now?”

Ed _knew_ , he realized. Edward knew that he had kissed a man. Edward was drawing all types of conclusions in his gridlocked highway of a consciousness. His humiliation flooded back tenfold.

“Please go, Edward. I don't want to talk, and if you show up at my door, I swear to a God you don't believe in that I’ll make you a double amputee again.”

Ed laughed.

“I'd like to see you try.”

“Don't test a man with nothing to lose.”

“Come to Resembool.” Ed spoke uncharacteristically softly. “That's why I called. Get out of Central and reset. I’m shut up at Pinako’s working on a paper and I could use company.”

Four years after Pinako’s death and the home was still hers. Roy sighed.

“I’m not going to mope underfoot in your late grandmother’s home.”

“Then don't stay here, there’s a bed and breakfast down the road. The point is getting out somewhere, and you might as well be where you've got an old friend who you can see if you want to.” He paused. “We _are_ friends, by the way. Whether you like it or not.”

“I know, Edward.”

“You say that, but I don't think you do. This isn't pity or charity or whatever your sad ass is twisting it into. This is one friend—who is very smart and has good ideas—trying to help out another friend, who’s going through some awful shit right now. So lemme help.”

Roy wanted so badly to say no. He wanted to pull himself up by his bootstraps and have a solution to his mess of a life just materialize in front of him. But nothing came to him and his bedroom was starting to smell worse than he could handle and Resembool was always beautiful in the fall.

“I’ll consider it,” he said. He swore he could hear Ed smile.

“Great. Take my number down and gimme a call when you've got a train time. I'll pick you up from the station.”

Ed took every _maybe_ as a _yes_ and Roy hated when he was right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> final chapters to be published in under 2 months. i have a finished roy/ed fic [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8599327/chapters/19720282) if you're jonesin.


	2. build-up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They’d been friends for almost two decades—maybe Ed cared enough about him to lie. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> part 2 of 3! thanks for the kind words. part 3 should be up in jan.

Resembool turned to gold in the fall, ash and poplars blanketing the foothills, dry grass rolling endlessly into the horizon. Roy had never seen a more decentralized place in his life; the town’s only streets were two rows of shops just south of the train station, with the rest of the town’s residents in homes that dotted the hills, fenced in by seemingly endless farmland. The tension in Roy’s chest unknotted just from having left Central and he felt secure in the knowledge that people from Resembool hated the military and the government equally and no public humiliation of his could change that.

He slept most of the train ride and arrived in late afternoon with a crick in his neck. An attendant moved slowly through the cars and reminded everyone that they were in Resembool, Resembool, Resembool. Roy squinted out his compartment’s grimy window and couldn't see Ed, but he grabbed his trunk and disembarked, and there he was.

Roy had known for years that he had feelings for Ed.

It was something that rose and receded like tides, swelling and then shrinking back into the deeper recesses of his consciousness because it was too depressing to think about all the time. At that moment, stepping off the train to see Ed on the platform—Ed with his hair twisted back, wearing a knit sweater and his usual shabby coat, smiling at him, waiting for him, all rust and gold like autumn personified—Roy burned for him. He wished the moment were happening under any other circumstances. Maybe then he would hurry down onto the platform, sweep Ed into his arms and kiss him like a lover returning from war. He allowed himself a few sappy, glorious seconds to imagine what that would be like.

The thought passed and the tide sunk. He went back to feeling sorry for himself and stepped down from the train.

“Dr. Elric,” he said, trying to joke. Ed laughed. Roy appreciated that.

“You made it in one piece.”

“Looks are deceiving.”

“Well, you made it.” Ed turned on his heel and Roy followed him across the platform and through the station. “I know I said I'd pick you up, but it's pretty much just this. My car’s busted.”

“Hm. A tragedy.”

“I know you hate my car but you could at least pretend to be sad for me.”

“That bucket of bolts is a death trap.”

“At least I can drive, posh boy. Not all of us can afford drivers.”

Ed walked around the side of the station and hopped over the tracks. Roy ambled after him, his shoes slipping on the rails. “You’re a department head at one of the biggest universities on the continent. I know for a fact that you can afford a driver.”

“Yeah, but I don't get one, and that's what keeps me grounded.”

They walked side by side down the dirt road towards the cluster of brightly-painted buildings in Resembool’s centre.

Roy said, “Let's put a pin in this conversation until you're my age.”

“You're not eighty, idiot. You can drive.”

Roy hadn't thought it would feel so good to speak to someone about something so inane; after over a week of schlepping around a pit of depression, it was novel to rib Ed about his terrible car. He almost forgot why he was there, until he remembered. His initial plan was to say nothing about the situation, but now that he was there, ignoring the elephant in the room felt stupid.

“First of all,” he said quietly, “I want to apologize for my behaviour the last time we saw each other. It was hugely inappropriate and I thank you for your understanding.”

Ed scoffed. “What’s a panic attack between friends?”

“The other thing,” Roy went on, ignoring him, “is that I would like to set one rule during my stay here, and I mean it.”

“Shoot.”

Roy spoke slowly, enunciating each word.

“I don’t—want—to talk about it.”

“Talk about what, your career? Or just that panic attack? Or—”

Roy whipped around and shot him a glare. Ed’s mouth snapped shut.

“Uh, the tabloid thing, then. Got it.”

They didn't speak again until they reached the first row of shops.

“Hang a left here,” Ed said, and they did. Shortly after, he slowed to a stop. “The bed and breakfast is just down that way, the big blue house. You can't miss it.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem. So, what's the plan?” He paused. “Do you have one?”

“Not in the slightest.”

“That works.” Ed pointed vaguely north. “Well, you know where Pinako’s place is if you want to hang out. I’ll be there. If you’re looking for somewhere to sit, there’s a great bakery there—” He pointed at a little yellow building on the corner that was so quaint it made Roy’s teeth ache. “And if you’re looking for something to do, take a walk south down to the creek. Super beautiful.”

“Thank you,” Roy said again, feeling exceedingly awkward. _Hang out_ , Ed had said. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever _hung out_ with Ed in his life and he felt exhausted by the prospect. “See you soon,” he said anyways, and headed for the inn.  
  


—  
  


Roy didn't come out of his room for the next three days. When he showed up on Ed’s porch on day four, he said, “I was sleeping.”

Ed’s hair was down and he wore round wire-frame glasses that Roy had only seen on him a few times before.

“I bet. Come on in.”

As he followed Ed into the house and took his shoes off at the entry, he realized he had never seen Ed in his own element. The extent of their relationship had been at first work-related, when they saw each other at Eastern Headquarters and later at Central, and then in the fifteen years since everything had happened, they would meet for dinner or drinks or at at the home of a mutual friend, but never at Ed’s home. Now Roy was seeing him unshowered and barefoot in the comfort of a space he often called his own, and it was blisteringly new.

“I’ve got the kettle on if you want coffee or whatever,” Ed said. “Instant or pour-over, or tea. Just black, unless Win left some herbal stuff around.”

“Is she here?” Roy asked.

“Nope. I told her I’d be here, so.” Ed led Roy to the kitchen and motioned to a chair. There was a carton of eggs on the counter and an empty pan heating on the stove. “We use this place like a timeshare, the three of us, as stupid as that sounds. Unless we plan to be here together, we’re not.”

Roy nodded. He took a seat at the kitchen table, moving a stack of Ed’s books aside so he could set his elbow down.

“How is Winry? Do you keep in touch?”

“Yeah, of course. She’s good, still out in Rush. Her shop’s booming. Last time I was there, I didn’t think she’d even have time for a tune-up. She’s got like five girls working for her now, it’s great.”

“That’s good to hear.”

Ed and Winry dated from the time they were eighteen until they were twenty-five. Roy knew nothing about the breakup, as Ed had never volunteered more than a shrug and a simple _people grow apart_. Maybe that’s all there was to it, but he’d heard from Riza that there was a time when the two had planned to get married.

It was nine in the morning on a Wednesday and Roy was sitting in the countryside cottage that Edward Elric grew up in. Ed was wearing ratty joggers and he tapped his automail toes on the tile to the tune of a song that only existed in his head. He was wearing glasses and frying eggs. Roy had never been so out of his comfort zone.

Ed spoke without turning away from the stove.

“I know you said no talking about it, but I feel like this is far enough from the thing you said not to talk about that it shouldn't count. Are you feeling any better?”

Roy thought about it for a handful of seconds.

“No.”

“That's cool.” Ed cracked two eggs into the skillet, then turned around. “Have you eaten?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Cool.” Ed put the egg carton away. “Where’d we land with that coffee and/or tea?”

“Coffee. Thank you.”

“Gotcha.”

He watched Ed putter around the kitchen making breakfast and after spending four days alone in his too-quaint room at the bed and breakfast, it was surreal. Pinako’s house was warm and cluttered in the way that only a home that had been lived in for generations could be and Roy didn’t miss his sterile condo in Central even a little. Ed pulled a tub of instant coffee from a cupboard, clunked two two mugs onto the counter, watched his eggs fry. Unbraided, his hair almost reached the small of his back.

“I can’t believe how long your hair is,” Roy said. Ed snorted.

“I can’t believe Al still rags on me for how impractical it is even though I don’t fight or move around or do anything anymore.”

A small dog that looked like a discoloured mop head shuffled into the kitchen and lied down on the rug in front of the sink.

“Oh.” Roy vaguely remembered Pinako having a dog. “This isn’t…”

“Not Den. Den’s gone.” Ed rubbed the dog’s back with his right foot. “Wan. Granny got him… I don’t even know when. A while ago.”

The sweetness of a grown man calling his grandmother _granny_ reduced Roy to rubble.

“Hi, Wan,” he said. Wan looked up and Roy was pretty sure he blinked at him from under all that hair. “Cute.”

“Yeah, he’s a real treat.” Ed flipped his eggs. “You ever have a dog?”

“Not my own. The closest thing I’ve had to keeping a pet is Hayate.”

“Aw, right, that little rascal! How’s he doing?”

“Very old, from what Riza tells me. But happy.”

“Great. He gets along with Riza’s beau?”

And so the morning went on. Ed sat at the table across from Roy and ate his breakfast. They drank coffee and talked about nothing at all, and Roy might normally have been tired by it, but at that time, it was an incredible kindness. He got to pretend he was just a man living in the country, visiting a friend for breakfast. Roy talked about Falman and Breda and other old friends in Central, and Ed talked, as he always did, about Al. After a while, he stood, taking his plate and mug with him.

“You’re welcome to stick around, but I’ve got work to do.” He nodded his head towards the kitchen doorway; Roy didn’t know the house well enough to know what was beyond it. “I’m set up in the living room. It’s a mess, but you’re welcome to come chill or go or whatever.”

Roy knew he should go. For once, he followed his better judgement.

“I’ll let you work. I’d like to walk around a bit, see town.”

“There's not much to see, but I respect that.” Ed put his dishes in the sink. “Wanna come back for breakfast tomorrow?”

Roy rose tiredly. “I think I can pencil you in.”

Roy spent most of his day walking. He bundled up, bought a pack of smokes from the only place in Resembool that sold them, which was the train station—suggesting that Resembool residents didn't smoke, and that was the opposite of what Roy knew to be true about small towns—and set off in a direction. The first day, he picked west. He walked on a road until he found a trail and crossed through a stand of pines. He went to Ed’s for breakfast the next day and they talked about the growing political unrest in Xing, and then he left.

He walked east until he crossed the train tracks, then followed them whichever way they went. He stopped on a grassy hill and ate a sweet bun he bought from the bakery before he left. He smoked half a pack and thought with overwhelming guilt about Daniel, guilty as much over what happened as over how few facts about the young man he could piece together. Daniel had worked for him for two years but he entered Roy’s life at a time when it was all he could do to keep from having a breakdown every Monday morning; he didn’t have the bandwidth to mentor him professionally or personally like he deserved. What haunted Roy the most was the last words he heard Daniel say, crushed against his mouth: _Roy, I always—_  
  


—  
  


He didn't go to Ed’s for breakfast the next morning because he slept for most of the day, lost in sick, hazy dreams.  
  


—  
  


When he showed up the day after, Ed didn't say a word about his absence. He made them both omelettes and they talked about what Riza was up to as Commanding Officer of East City headquarters, with her old dog and new fiancé, who was five years her junior and reminded everyone of Jean Havoc, much to Riza’s chagrin. After breakfast, Roy walked.

They did this for a week and a half until one morning Ed asked Roy to proofread an interim report he was working on and Roy was introduced to the blast zone that Ed had made of the living room. A near-perfect circle of papers, some strangely pristine and some scratch notes, lay in the middle of the room with a clear spot in the centre where Ed sat while he worked on them. There were two small chalkboards and five stubs of chalk on the floor, a clunky calculator and a stack of folders off to one side as high as Roy’s hip.

“You could make two piles,” Roy suggested, gesturing at the stack.

Ed stepped over the ring of papers to perch in the middle. His throne.

“Those are my preliminary findings,” he said. “They’re in chronological order.”

“You could have two stacks of folders and still keep them chronological.”

“Or I could throw the whole thing into a rotting pit before I take filing advice from Roy Mustang. Are you going to help me or not?”

Roy spent the day with Ed on the floor of the living room going over his report with a red pen, until sitting on the floor made his back hurt and he moved to the slouching tweed couch that rested against one wall. Ed invited him to stay for dinner and made a giant vat of pasta. The next morning after breakfast, he said he sent off his preliminary report but he was having issues writing his abstract and asked if Roy would stay and help him sort it out.

He sat on the floor in front of Roy and said, “So, in a nutshell, as you’ve probably gathered, my research looks at U24, a protein found in two certain types of Human Herpes Virus, which may be implicated in multiple sclerosis, chronic fatigue syndrome and a whole bunch of other shit. Specifically, it’s looking at strengthening the weak bond between U24 and its interaction partner—which I won’t get into right now—through a series of super specific alchemical reactions, which—I posit—affect the endocytic recycling of myelin proteins required for myelin morphogenesis and neuronal function. I’m trying to use alchemy to affect the binding affinities of U24-WW pairs to increase the number of specific binding partners, which would…” Ed made an incomprehensible gesture with his hands. ”... do some cool stuff for virus research, basically.”

Roy said, “That wouldn’t fit in a nutshell.”

“But that's what I need! I need to say all that and more in a paragraph that anyone who picks up an academic journal could understand.”

“I don’t think that’s possible. And who just casually picks up academic journals?”

“Okay, so not just anyone, but a guy like you—you get alchemy and you’re smart as hell, but you’re not a trained physicist and or biologist. Likewise, I’d want scientists who don’t know alchemy to get it, too.”

Roy would never admit that he was flattered by Ed calling him smart. Ed didn’t play it fast and loose with his compliments.

“I can give it a shot, but you’ll have to say all that again. Maybe a few times.”

Ed beamed. “I can do that.”  
  


—  
  


They did this for several days—Roy helping Ed with small components of his project and being given another task when he was done—until one afternoon, Ed asked, abruptly, “Where’ve you been going when you're not here?”

Roy was sitting on the far end of the couch. He put his finger down to mark the spot he'd been reading. “Walking.”

“Just around?”

“Yes. I pick a direction and go.”

“And you're not lying to hide the fact that you've been holed up in that inn all day feeling sorry for yourself?”

“No. There's… there’s… a giant boulder about ten kilometres west of here near the train tracks, with the initials BK + TS carved on its high side.”

Ed hummed thoughtfully. “That’s proof enough. And you like doing that? Walking?”

Roy thought about it, then shrugged. “Yes. There's not much nature in Central City, as you know.”

“No kidding.” Ed idly flapped a stack of paper in his hands. “Can I come with you tomorrow?”

“Walking?”

“Yeah. I won't bug you if you're meditating or something.”

“I don't meditate,” Roy said, despite the fact that what he did on his walks could be considered meditating. “I’m sure you'd find it boring. You must know these hills like the back of your hand.”

“First of all, I’ll never get tired of Resembool, and second, if you're worried I’ll boss you around and micromanage your walk, I swear I _am_ capable of shutting up sometimes.”

“So you keep saying.” Roy laughed when Ed made a face. “Fine. Tomorrow it is.”  
  


—  
  


Roy showed up at Ed’s for breakfast as usual, but afterwards, Ed got his coat on and left with him. It was colder than it had been the week before and Ed wore a knit cap pulled down over his ears. He wasn’t wearing his glasses which, Roy gathered, were mostly for reading. His hair was tucked down the back of his coat like a scarf and he had a small bag with him. Roy made the decision to take him to a place he found the week before, a stand of aspen with leaves that were blindingly, brilliantly gold, nestled at the foot of a small hill.

They walked in silence down a trail that bisected farmland for about five minutes until Roy got his smokes out. Ed looked up at him.

“How long have you smoked?”

Roy tapped the pack against his palm. “Intermittently for the last thirty years.”

“So you smoked when I was a kid? I never saw you.”

He pulled one out and lit it with a snap. “I don’t smoke around children. And I don’t remember if I was smoking at that time.” He did remember. He smoked from the time Maes was killed until after he got his eyesight back, but he never smoked in front of Ed. He tipped the pack towards him in offering.

Ed said, “I’m good, but thanks.”

Roy tucked the pack away. Ed didn’t move upwind and Roy didn’t walk any further from him.

Ed mumbled, “At least it smells better than the crud Granny smoked.”

Roy knew it was one of those things he wasn’t supposed to respond to. They kept walking in silence, Ed huddled into the neck of his coat to shield himself from the wind, Roy with his hands shoved into his pockets. The trail wound around and followed a wooden fence down a slope covered in tall grass. They plodded along.

“I’m surprised you didn’t ask me how people feel about trespassing,” Ed said, squinting at the speck of a white farmhouse in the distance.

“I didn’t think to.”

“Figures. I mean, everyone’s fine, but _you_ have no way of knowing that.”

“I’d throw your name out before they could shoot me and they’d end up inviting me in for dinner,” Roy said. “I’d regale them with stories of Resembool’s most famous little darling.”

“Oh, shut up. No one cares. I do science stuff, not singing and dancing or whatever people like.”

“When I was getting coffee the other day, the man behind the counter at the bakery asked if I was staying with you and didn’t wait for an answer before he told me facts from all the interviews you’ve given in the past five years, then segued perfectly into a story about when you were four years old and you got chased down the street by one of his chickens.”

“Fuckin’ Robert,” Ed said. “He tells everyone that story.”

They kept walking and to Roy’s relief, Ed didn’t seem agitated; he didn’t braid and re-braid his hair and he didn’t fiddle with his hands or anything else. He just walked next to Roy, taking these long, leisurely strides. Roy was exactly as surprised as he thought he’d be by the revelation that Ed wasn’t lying: he was, in fact, capable of shutting up. This didn’t stop Roy from worrying about whether he was bored, although there was nothing he could do about it if he was, so he tried not to think about it.

Roy could see his stand of aspen off in the distance as they came down the hill. An hour later, when the trail forked at a point that headed directly towards it, Ed said, “I thought maybe you were taking me here.”

Roy stopped. “What?”

“No, no, it’s fine.” Ed kept walking ahead and spoke over his shoulder. “I love these trees, c’mon.”

Roy followed him towards the copse. “Are these… special trees?”

“I don’t know. Not in a botanical sense. I don’t know what they’re called.”

“They’re aspen.”

“Okay, well, other than being aspen, no. I just like them.”

Roy watched Ed crunch his way through fallen leaves, his neck craned towards the impossibly yellow canopy above them.

“You know these trees specifically?” Roy asked, trying to keep the awe from his voice as he followed Ed down the path.

“Yeah. I came here a lot as a kid. They turn like this every year. I know there’s a bunch of them around here, but these are just this little patch in the sea of other trees and it’s neat.”

His breath clouded in the air. Roy stood far enough back to watch him. It was funny to see Ed in nature, as a person whose profession centred around smaller and much more complex forms of life. Roy thought, not for the first time, how much Ed had changed over the course of his life. Until him and Al completed their quest, he was more of a concept and a set of principles than a person with desires, hobbies and feelings. Ed told him once when he was about twenty, after one too many drinks, _I didn't feel human again until it was all over._

“I like them, too,” Roy said. “That’s funny.”

Ed turned around and smiled at him. Roy’s heart sputtered to a stop. “It’s neat.”

They made their way to the centre of the stand of aspen and stopped. The trunks were too thin to hedge them in and they could see the rolling hills beyond, but it still felt secluded, like a child’s wooden clubhouse. They just stood there and looked around; underbrush dead with the season, blanketed in wet, dead leaves.

“For whenever we got where we were going, I brought…” Ed sat on an overturned log and dug into his bag. He pulled out a metal camping thermos. “Coffee.”

Roy sat next to him and lit a smoke. He watched Ed’s cold-reddened hands struggle to twist off the top of the thermos and a pang of unwelcome affection shot through him. He edged farther away from him and hoped it seemed casual.

“There's only one cup,” Ed said. “It’s the lid. Is that gross?”

“No. Thank you.”

They sat side by side on the log and shared coffee. Ed made it black and sweet like he took his own and Roy didn’t mind. He looked at Ed’s boots on his outstretched feet—well-loved and well-made, like everything else he wore, and about the same size as Roy’s own. He had the laces wrapped around the ankles several times. Roy had always liked how Ed dressed: somehow both casual and refined all at once, simple colours and boxy silhouettes that kept his physique an intriguing mystery. He’d never mentioned this to Ed.

“You said, earlier,” Ed began slowly, “Robert, the bakery guy. He asked you if you were staying with me?”

“Yes. It’s a small town and I’m a new face, I imagine people just know.”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s cool. It just made me think, like—would you _wanna_ stay with me?”

Roy nearly dropped the thermos cup. “Is this a hypothetical question or an offer?”

“I dunno. You don’t know how long you’re going to be here, right? I know that inn isn’t cheap. And I know you’ve got money, but there’s no need to flush it down the drain. And you’ve been coming over a lot anyways, so.”

Ed ended the sentence there and Roy thought very, very carefully about how to respond. Scraps of his age old superior-subordinate relationship with Ed told him it was inappropriate before he remembered how much time had passed between then and now. His all-consuming crush on Ed also told him it was inappropriate and that was harder to brush off. He’d live in Ed’s space, see him cross from the bathroom to his bedroom wearing a towel and eat dinner with him at that crowded kitchen table every night. Everything he learned about Ed made him more endearing, from his reading glasses to the beloved stand of trees in which they currently sat, and living with him would give that fire unbearable kindling.

“I wouldn’t want to impose,” he said.

Ed snorted. “When in my life have I ever done something just to be nice? I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t mean it.”

Roy couldn’t argue with that. He passed Ed the thermos cup and twiddled the last bit of his smoke between his fingers. “You’ve got your paper to work on.”

“A paper you’ve been helping me with, if you want to keep doing that. I’m not saying you have to spend a bunch of time with me or whatever, just… You know. Convenience.”

Roy knew it wouldn’t be healthy or smart to accept. It would make it ten times harder when he inevitably left Resembool. It would suck the life out of his already emaciated existence.

“I don’t see why not,” Roy lied.  
  


—  
  


Roy checked out of the bed and breakfast and brought his things over to Ed’s the next morning. He had long since stopped knocking when he arrived and he let himself in, left his valise in the entryway and made his way down the hall, silent in his socked feet.

“Edward?”

Despite having spent the past few weeks in the house, his knowledge of its floor plan was limited to the kitchen, living room and first floor washroom. He didn’t know where most doors led but a murmur of sound came from one at the back end of the house and he followed it. The door to a small, cluttered office was open and inside, Ed stood speaking into a phone with his back to the door, rigid and angry.

“Wh—I do not! I—shut up! _You're_ a bad idea!”

Roy nearly laughed. He turned around to leave and wait for Ed in the kitchen.

Ed said, “Listen, it's nothing. He's just… staying here for a bit. What was I supposed to do, _not_ offer?”

Roy froze. Ed sighed.

“I’m fine, Al. It's no harder than it normally is, trust me.”

Roy physically winced. He was a chore, a nuisance, garbage to be dragged out to curb. Something that Ed was dealing with, no harder than it normally was. He padded quietly down the hall, slipped his shoes on and went out onto the porch to have a smoke while Ed finished his call. He took his luggage with him.

After a few minutes, the screen door creaked open and Ed stepped outside.

“You’re allowed come in,” he said. “That’s kind of the point of staying here. You come and go as you please.”

Roy hauled himself to his feet and felt one million years old. He stubbed his cigarette out on the porch railing. “Right. My mistake.”  
  


—  
  


Roy knew he was being quiet and couldn’t snap himself out of it. Ed was letting him stay there out of some sense of obligation. Ed didn’t want him staying there. He was a nuisance underfoot and Ed was _dealing with him._ Was Ed giving him busywork with his paper in an attempt to cure his depression like some kind of Florence Nightingale? He had to leave. He couldn’t possibly stay.

He didn’t know how to say no in the moment, so he let Ed set him up in an upstairs room. It was dusty and shut-in and he spent an hour lying on the too-soft narrow bed, shivering with the window open to let air in. He knew that agreeing to stay with Ed was going to make him feel like shit, but he didn’t expect it to happen so quickly. He fell asleep by accident and wandered downstairs in late afternoon, sat on the couch and read a book without saying much of anything to Ed, who sat on the floor and worked.

He did this the next day and the day after that. He skipped breakfast and left the house early and hardly saw Ed at all as he tried to figure out how to phrase his leaving. He wasn’t ready to go but he didn’t want to stay, either. He couldn’t believe that Ed would do anything he didn’t want to do, but he knew what he heard. They’d been friends for almost two decades—maybe Ed cared enough about him to lie. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

One evening, Roy called Riza on the phone in the study. The call was short and uneventful; she asked him how he was, he gave minimal details, she voiced her concern and he told her he missed her. When he returned to the living room, Ed had given up on work for the night and was folded into the massive armchair in the corner of the room, reading the newspaper. Wan was curled up on the rug, snoring softly. Roy sat in his customary spot at the far end of the couch and picked up the battered detective novel he’d been reading.

It was a half an hour before Ed dropped the paper on the floor, untwisted himself from the pretzel of a pose he sat in and cleared his throat.

“I don't know when I became someone who’s this fuckin’ nosy, but what's up with you?”

Roy feigned ignorance. “I’m sorry?”

“I thought we were good but you've done a total one-eighty and I don't know why. You know you don't _have_ to stay here, right? If you liked the inn better, go back.”

“I’m fine. I do like staying here, thank you.” Roy thought of how _I overheard you speaking honestly about me and it hurt my feelings_ would sound coming from a grown man and decided that lying was better. “I’m just… in a mood, I guess.”

Ed fixed his eyes on him—his piercing golden eyes, perpetually a little sleepy and a little mean. His brow furrowed like it did when he was trying to figure something out. Then, without saying a word, he got up and left the room. He came back in a moment later holding something that looked like a screwdriver, but it had a funny sort of attachment on the end.

“What’s that?” Roy asked.

Ed ignored him. He hiked up his left pant leg all the way to his automail port, stuck the instrument into the side of the port and turned it. He pulled on his leg with both hands and with a shimmying clunk, it came off completely.

Roy recoiled. “What on _earth?”_

Ed beamed at him. He set his leg next to him with the foot on the floor, resting against the couch. He kept his pant leg rolled up so Roy could see where the metal was welded to his skin and bone and the inner-workings of where the hardware of the automail connected to his nerves in a series of colourful, complex ports. Roy couldn’t remember if he’d ever seen Ed with any of his limbs off and he wouldn’t have thought it would make him so profoundly uncomfortable. It felt like he was intruding on something private, as awkward if he’d walked in on him changing.

“What are you doing?” he asked, tense. Ed wasn’t doing anything. He reclined in the armchair next to his own detached leg, smiling faintly at Roy.

“Just chilling. What, a guy can’t take his leg off in his own home?”

Roy couldn't take his eyes off Ed’s automail leg propped up against the couch like an umbrella or a walking stick.

“You… I have no idea how to answer that.” He put his book down. “This is so, so bizarre.”

“So what? If you're gonna keep feeling sorry for yourself like a stupid sack of shit, I’ve gotta take drastic measures.”

“Like removing your leg.”

Ed gestured wordlessly at what was left of his thigh.

“Please put it back on,” Roy said.

Ed pushed himself to his feet using his hands and hopped through the living room to the kitchen with surprising grace.

He called from the other room, “I’m fine! And so are you. Get it?” Roy was still looking at his leg. It got weirder the farther Ed was from it. “Can I get you anything while I’m up? Tea? A light snack?”

“Please sit back down,” Roy said, “You're going to fall and break your nose.”

“I’ve done worse. And besides, that’s okay! Sometimes awful things happen in your life and you find a way to move on and learn from them.” He appeared in the kitchen doorway again. “Get it?”

“Sit _down,_ Edward.”

Ed hopped back into the room holding a stick of jerky. He sat heavily on the other couch and Roy refrained from thanking him for it. He made no move to put his leg back on and Roy had known him long enough not to ask again; in retrospect, it was stupid that he'd asked more than once already.

Instead, he asked, “You haven't always been able to remove it, have you?”

“No! It's new-ish. Back in the day, you'd have to go to a mechanic to get it taken off and put on and it was a whole big process that hurt like hell. This is way better. They changed the way the neural ports work, so it doesn’t feel like getting stuck with jumper cables anymore. It's super common in all but the cheapest models now.”

“I didn't realize there was a demand to make one’s limbs removable.”

Ed bit the jerky and tore a strip off in an undignified motion. Roy found it charming and pitied himself for it.

“Oh, hell yeah. People want attachments—different limbs for different things. Special hands for precision work, feet for sports. If you can take ‘em off yourself, it makes that easy. You notice they’re silent now, too. Synthetic soles. No more clattering heel.”

To illustrate, Ed picked up his leg and hit it against the floor a couple times. Roy chuckled.

“You’ll make fun of me for this, but part of me misses that. I always knew it was you coming down the halls at Eastern Headquarters, on that awful tiled floor. Your little mismatched footfalls.”

“That's sweet, but we both know you heard Al rattling a mile off.”

“Well. On the rare occasion you were without him, then.” Roy glanced at the book in his hands. On its cover, a man in a tan overcoat opened a small velvet box full of jewels and looked surprised by it. “Do you ever remove your leg, except to prove a point?”

“Not much. I fit in shitty hotel bathtubs better without it, but other than that, no.”

Roy smiled. “I find it hard to believe that you have trouble fitting into anything.”

Ed bared his teeth and for a split second he was fifteen and Roy was laughing at him from the far side of his desk at Eastern Headquarters.

Ed said, “That's even more bullshit than it ever was because now I know _you_ aren't that tall, either!”

“But I don’t get so riled up about it.”

“Oh, fuck you.”

They were both trying not to laugh. Ed gestured at Roy.

“See, you’re feeling better. It worked.”

Roy quieted down and ran a hand through his hair. “It’s not that simple.”

“Yeah, but laughing never hurt anybody. You overthink everything.” Ed picked up his leg and examined it in his hands. “I’m not making light of what’s going on for you, but I know you’ve been through worse. A lot worse. The fact that you haven’t let anything stop you after you’ve been through hell on earth—more than once, mind you—makes me surprised that you’re stopping now.”

Roy wanted to say he wasn’t stopping, but it was very clear that he had. Maybe not permanently, but hiding in the countryside wasn’t _not_ stopping.

“It’s different,” he said quietly. “I can’t begin to tell you how different it is. Humiliation is different. It’s personal. Hardship is something to be lauded, but this isn’t hardship, this is… Thick skin doesn’t matter when what’s hurting you comes from inside.”

He was very, very aware that it was the most he’d talked about what happened since showing up on Ed’s doorstep weeks ago and even the word _humiliation_ embarrassed him and felt like a step too far. He wasn’t supposed to have problems, not in front of anyone and especially not in front of Ed. That had never been their relationship and Roy wasn’t eager to change it; Ed had gone from subordinate thorn in his side to something between a war buddy and an old friend, and at no point had that facilitated sharing feelings.

He was two seconds away from saying a terse goodnight and climbing the stairs to his room when he glanced up far enough to see Ed still holding his own detached leg. Ed’s hammy delivery overshadowed his point: it was a peace offering. Roy realized that the sensitive, uptight, say-that-again-and-I’ll-bust-your-head-in-for-it Ed of old was now showing him his limitations, which was always what humiliated _him_ most.

Roy explained, “It’s a different kind of hell to know that every military man I speak to for the next ten years will look at me and think of me sucking face with my twenty-year-old assistant, but I do honestly appreciate your point.”

Ed didn't say anything and Roy looked up. He was wiggling his automail toes in his hand.

“So that’s who it was,” Ed mumbled.

Roy was on fire. He wanted to curl into a ball and die. “You… didn’t know?”

Ed shook his head. “Shit, no, I didn’t read the papers. What kind of friend would I be? They never tell the truth and I figure anything you wanna tell me, you'd tell me.” He paused. “I just know what people told me before I could tell them to shut up.”

Roy screamed at himself to say something and his mind babbled in panic, _shut up I love you keep talking I hate you tell me what you know and what you think of it_. He couldn't see himself explaining the inner workings of his repressed sexuality to Ed in that moment or ever, but he wished he could. _If you ask me about it now, I’ll open up,_ Roy thought. _I’ll tell you everything. I’ll tell you how much Daniel looks like you._

Ed watched him and Roy hoped his lifetime of political dealings kept his expression schooled into something calm. Ed flexed his automail foot back in his hand once, twice, three times, looking at Roy. Then he put the leg down, foot on the floor, and connected it back into its port. Once it was back on, he stood.

“I’ll let you read. I've gotta shower.”

He tucked his newspaper under his arm and left the room flipping the automail tool in his hand. Roy didn't pick up his book until the rush of the shower startled him out of his stupor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tw](http://www.twitter.com/cleenteath) / [tu](http://ronibravo.tumblr.com)
> 
>  
> 
> [i did a little drawing of how i picture them in this fic](http://ronibravo.tumblr.com/post/168159006921)


	3. shudder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was tired of waiting and longing and second-guessing. He vaguely remembered being a man who was confident enough to take what he wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this got so long that now there's 4 chapters. the one after this is mostly done already. enjoy and thank you

Time marched on regardless of how Roy tried to stop it. He helped Ed with his paper and learned an excessive amount about how alchemy affected chemical bonds. He explored Resembool from one end to another and left no stone unturned. He finished both books he brought with him and ransacked Pinako’s study for more. He earned Wan’s trust and when he sat on the couch it was usually with the old dog tucked under his arm. He learned something new about Ed every day and fell for him harder than he thought possible in his worst nightmares.

It wasn't that Ed was perfect—he had the culinary skills of a broke college student, his ego was unmanageable and he was rude with small talk, to name a few key shortcomings—but he was awful in all the same ways that Roy was awful and Roy became surer of what he'd always known: he would never, in the years he had left on this earth, meet anyone else like Ed. He was brilliant, confident, funny and genuine and Roy wanted to live in his dusty guest room until the day he died, just for the privilege of being around him. He wasn’t perfect, Roy just liked him anyways.

Roy, of course, found all of this deeply depressing. He had no indication that Ed felt the same way and felt ridiculous for thinking that he could. If Ed wasn't interested in him when he was thirty-five, gleaming and confident, he wouldn't be interested now that he was forty-five and deeply self-loathing.

Regardless, he stayed at Ed’s. When Ed would brush his hair back and their eyes would meet or Ed would show him something and lean in close enough to knock their shoulders together, the tiny flicker of hope in Roy’s chest would burn out of control.

He spent the next three weeks trying to reset his brain. He tried to cut back on smoking with little success and replaced alcohol with coffee, which was only a small victory, if a victory at all. He tried to treat his time off like a vacation and didn't dwell on his life in Central, and as the weeks went on, he started to forget that it existed at all.

  
  
—

 

One night, he stayed up late reading and didn't wake until noon. When he rolled out of bed, he saw that a small shelf on the far wall of his bedroom had lost a screw and now hung loose. The books that had been on it were splayed on the ground.

He pulled on slacks and a shirt and stacked the books into a pile, then stepped out into the hallway. He heard the front door open and shut as he descended the stairs.

“Edward, do you have a screwdriver or—oh.”

Al stood in the entryway unwinding a scarf from around his neck. At his feet, a little girl with short black hair was trying to pry her boots off. Roy had never met her, but he knew she was one of Al’s daughters.

Al didn't look surprised to see him and Roy remembered that it was him whom Ed was talking to on the phone that one day last month.

“Roy, hi,” Al said, smiling warmly as he pulled his coat off. “Long time no see.”

It was never _Mustang_ with Al; he had give where Ed never yielded, polite to a fault, his brother’s foil in so many ways. Where Ed wore everything on his sleeve, Al played his cards close to his chest—not because he wasn’t deeply and boundlessly kind, but because he was _._ Both Elric brothers had their own way of feigning indifference to protect their soft hearts.

Al’s daughter successfully yanked her boot off and toppled over onto the floor.

“Aw, baby. Careful,” Al said, looking down at her. It was a hard fall and she couldn't have been older than than three if Roy’s math was right, and he expected her to start crying. Instead, she picked up her boot and chucked it against the wall with surprising force.

“Lord,” Roy said. Al looked at him with a tiredness found only in fathers.

“She’s more like her uncle than I’m comfortable with.”

The girl glanced up at Roy from her seat on the floor. She looked too much like Mei to look much like Al, although Roy could already see a bit of him in the square shape of her face and the set of her eyes. Al himself looked like a funhouse mirror version of Ed: he was taller and slimmer and his hair was a shade darker, but the two of them looked so similar that it took Roy aback every time they met. Al’s hair had started thinning but he looked years younger than thirty, and strikingly handsome.

“Bo, say hi to Roy. He’s a friend of your uncle’s.”

Bo did not say hi. She glared at Roy.

Roy said to Al, “Am I not a friend of her father’s?”

“Not like how you’re a friend of her uncle’s,” Al said, smiling. “But, yes. You’re also a friend of her father’s.” He pulled his shoes off and lined them up on the mat. Like the first time he'd spoken to Ed after it happened, Roy got a blinding flash of _he knows._ Al must have known about what happened to Roy if he had eyes and ears and lived in Amestris. Roy remembered to be embarrassed, more-so that he'd forgotten how life outside Resembool kept moving by. Nothing had changed, he was just hiding. “Is he around?”

“Yes, but I don't know wh—”

“Oh, who is _that?!”_ Ed shrieked from the other room. Bo started bouncing excitedly. Ed charged into the room, scooped her up and swung her around in the air. “Only my favourite niece in the whole wide world!”

Bo laughed and laughed and Roy’s heart melted into a puddle at the foot of the stairs.

Al said, “Jun isn't here but she still has feelings, Ed.”

“I say that to both of them,” Ed said in an exaggerated stage whisper. He pulled Bo to his chest and she put her little arms around his neck and hugged him back. “Hiya, sweetheart! How’s it goin’?”

 _“Good!”_ she yelled, her speech not quite out of the confines of baby-incomprehensibility. “Ed- _ward!”_

Ed tucked Bo into the crook of his arm. “Where's the other one?” he asked Al.

“Home sick. Mei’s looking after her.”

“For a pediatrician, your kids sure are sick a lot. Does the irony of that ever get to you?”

Al pushed by him into the house, socking him in the arm as he went. “Shut up and offer me some tea, you goon. I missed you so much.”

  


Roy tried to duck out but Ed insisted that he stay in his own Edward-type way, half threat and half painfully sincere ( _it’s no big deal Al loves you what are you so scared of come play with Bo_ ). Ed pushed the mess of papers and files on the living room floor off to one side and sat there with Bo, play-wrestling. Roy sat in the armchair and Al had one end of the couch.

“So how’s the practice treating you, doc?” Ed asked. He had his head tipped to one side so Bo could play with his braid. She stuck her fingers in the plaits and made a magnificent mess of it.

“Wonderful. We’ve taken so many new patients that we can’t anymore, not until I get another doctor in the office. Which is both good and bad.”

“Yeah, no kidding. You think East City would have more pediatricians. It’s big enough to have lots of kids.”

Al shrugged. “People don’t always like it. It’s not exactly glamorous. Some people would rather… say, get their pHD, travel the continent and do groundbreaking research that shapes the way we understand the world around us.”

Ed glared at him. Al smiled.

“Just as an example,” he added. Ed returned his attention to Bo.

“I miss you too, dingus. You don’t have to grill me.”

Al blew him a kiss. Roy laughed, which drew Al’s gaze to him.

“You must be enjoying your time off, Roy. How are you liking Resembool?” It was the most diplomatic way that anyone had brought up Roy’s massive public embarrassment and subsequent mental breakdown so far.

Roy said, “It’s charming. So quaint it makes my teeth jump.”

Al laughed. “That sounds about right, yeah. What made you decide to come here? I’m sure you could have picked anywhere if you wanted to get out of Central.”

Roy gestured vaguely at Ed, who had Bo’s little hands in his own and was playing a sort of chicken fight with her, where she furiously tried to kick at him and he kept her at bay.

“He can be very persuasive,” Al said. Ed’s head whipped up.

“Stop talking about me.”

“Stop doing things worthy of being talked about,” Al shot back. Roy loved how much more immature Ed and Al were around one another than they were with anyone else. That Ed was an accomplished biochemist and Al was a respected medical doctor was impossible to imagine then.

Wan plodded into the room and Bo spotted him and took off, chasing him through the loop of the house from the living room to the laundry room to the kitchen and back around. Ed chased after her and she howled in joy.

“Is he always like this around her?” Roy asked Al. Ed chased Bo who chased Wan in another loop through the living room, making a racket.

“Every single time. Jun, too. When he visits, he’ll play with them until they all pass out in a pile and we have to scrape them off the floor just to come eat dinner.”

“Well, doesn’t that just warm your heart.”

“It does.”

Roy made the decision to dive into it. He'd been planning his speech since the second Al walked in.

“I want to apologize for not having made it out to see your family since Bo was born. It’s been a… a rough few years.”

“I completely understand. You’re the highest ranking military officer in the country, Roy. I’m not offended that you can’t make it out east every weekend.”

“Regardless. We’ve known each other for a long time and I’d like to visit more.”

“Thank you, I appreciate that. You’re welcome to start visiting more,” Al said. Out of the corner of his eye, Roy saw him look at him. “I imagine things might be a little different for you in Central now.” Before Roy could say anything, Al said, “We don't have to talk about that.”

Roy wanted to talk about it with someone other than Ed, with whom he had hardly talked about it. He was feeling steadier on his feet than he had in weeks and he thought he might be up for it. He opened his mouth and Bo chose exactly then to charge back into the room, followed closely by Ed.

“Dog _gone,”_ Bo announced. “Ziff!”

“He hid under my bed,” Ed explained. His hair just barely clung to its tie and he was out of breath. “That dog can really book it for such an old mutt, damn.”

“Brother! Don’t swear in front of my kid.”

“Oh, come on, she doesn’t know things yet.”

“She does, too!”

“Well, sorry, then. God.” Ed fanned himself uselessly with his hand. “I’m sweaty from that! I hate getting old. I don’t know how you deal with this, Mustang.”

Roy, in lieu of swearing in front of Bo, flipped him off. Ed cackled and grabbed his sweater at the back of his neck.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, old man,” he said, pulling his the sweater over his head. It got stuck and pulled the t-shirt he wore underneath up with it, exposing his bare chest and stomach. Roy _stared._ He was stocky and faintly toned, dark blond hair brushed in the centre of his chest and below his navel. Roy’s personal sense of time slowed to an unbearable crawl until Ed got his sweater off and tugged his shirt down, but it couldn't have been more than a few seconds.

Bo took off into the kitchen and Ed ran after her. From the other room, Roy heard him say, “That's not a toy! Not for babies! You wanna go outside? Let's get your boots!”

Roy was still glazed over. He could see Ed’s body in his mind. He sighed and shook his head as if to clear it, and when he looked up, Al was giving him a very pointed look. He realized he hadn't been subtle. He wondered if Ed had seen him, too.

“I was…” _Reminiscing about my youth,_ he was going to lie, to spin it in an awkward but non-sexual direction and make it about Ed’s age and not his body, but Alphonse interrupted him.

“There's never a good time to bring this up, but maybe it's topical now, so—it's no secret, Roy. You've been looking at him like that since he was eighteen.” He paused awkwardly before adding, “Eighteen is my _polite_ estimate.”

Roy’s ears burned in embarrassment. “Alphonse…”

Al held up a hand. “Don't apologize. It was a different time.”

“It really wasn't.”

“You’re right. I’m being polite again.”

The patio door in the kitchen opened and closed and there was the sound of Bo shrieking in joy and then the crunch of leaves. Roy was alone in the house with Alphonse. Smart, perceptive, fiercely protective Alphonse, who knew more about Roy than he'd ever let on.

“Does Edward…” Roy began, but he trailed off. It was obvious, anyways: _does he know how I look at him?_

“—Have the emotional intelligence of a teenage boy who’s physically incapable of picking up other people’s vibes? Yes.” Al squinted. “No, nevermind. That’s rude. But to answer your question, no, I don’t think he knows.”

Roy didn’t know how to feel about that. Relieved, embarrassed, dejected. Part of him was glad that Ed didn’t know and the other part was disappointed that he obviously wasn’t considering Roy at all.

Roy realized that Al had no concept of the depth of his feelings for Ed: he may well have been, despite everything, just a forty-five-year-old man who stared at his brother’s body when he thought no one was looking. Al’s strange, distant tone made sense then, if Ed complained about him on the phone earlier. Al didn't want him to get involved.

For a second, Roy considered explaining himself. The thought quickly passed.

Instead, he asked, “How is Mei? Thriving, I assume.”

Al brightened up instantly, like a light bulb switching on. When he talked about Mei, he reminded Roy of someone he used to know.

“She’s absolutely wonderful. Did Ed tell you about her alkahestry practice?”

Al started talking and didn’t stop until Bo and Ed came back inside twenty minutes later, out of breath and with leaves stuck in their hair. He stayed for two more cups of tea and a sandwich and he and Ed babbled to each other about everything and anything while Roy sat on the floor and played catch with Bo using one of Wan’s dog toys. By the end, Roy thought Bo might have liked him. At the very least, she seemed to grudgingly accept him, which reminded Roy of his relationship with a young Ed.

Al left when the sun began to set. He bundled a sleepy Bo into his car, then gave Ed an extremely long goodbye hug and Roy a heartfelt yet much shorter one. Roy stood with Ed on the porch and watched him drive off.

Ed said, “God, I miss him. I visit and stuff, but goddamn. East City is too far from even northern Creta.” He looked up at Roy. “Did you have fun?”

Roy wanted to say _I feel like Alphonse was strangely cold to me_ but the cardinal rule of friendship with the Elric brothers was that you never said bad things to one about the other. They could complain about each other, and did, but if you spoke ill of Al to Ed and vice versa, he'd tear your head off and give it to his brother as a peace offering. Besides, if Al had been cold, Roy thought, it was undoubtedly his own fault.

“Bo is an absolute treasure,” he said instead.

“She's a scrapper. I’m in love with her.”

“She reminds me of you.”

“That’s what Al always says.” Ed turned around and went inside. “Have you met Jun? She’s just like Mei. Sweet and loud and cries a lot. Smart as a whip.”

“Last time I saw her she was just a baby. She’s how old now?”

“She turns six soon. Starting school in the fall.”

“Incredible.” Roy shook his head. Alphonse Elric was old enough to have a six-year-old daughter. He reeled at the thought and his feet felt heavy as he dragged them across the wood floor. Wan had emerged from his hiding place and Roy bent down and scooped him up. He whined tiredly and Roy mumbled, “You and me both, little guy.”

  
  


A cold snap hit Resembool the next week and the age of Pinako’s house began to show as the wind whistled clear through it. On a Tuesday morning, when Ed sat bundled in a blanket on the living room floor, his gloved fingers trying to hold a pen, Roy heard mail drop through the letter slot. He finished the dishes he was washing, drained the sink and dried his hands before sliding through the kitchen on his socked feet to retrieve it.

One of the letters was addressed to him and bore the insignia of the Amestris Military.

“Edward?” he called as he wandered to the living room, staring at the letter.

“Yeah?”

“Did you tell anyone that I was staying here?”

“Other than Al? I don’t think so, no.”

Roy appeared in the living room doorway. Ed had his blanket up over his head like a hood, his face just barely peeking out. His glasses were crooked. Roy held up the letter.

“I got a letter.”

“From who?”

“The military.”

Ed grimaced in sympathy. Roy dropped Ed’s own mail in front of him and went into the kitchen, sat at the table and edged his letter open with a knife.

The letter informed him that his leave of absence was up in one month, at which point he had a set date to appear in front of a personnel committee at Central HQ and discuss his future with the armed forces of Amestris.

Roy walked back into the living room and told Ed, “I have to speak in front of a committee and discuss my future with the armed forces of Amestris.”

Without looking up from his work, Ed said, “Is it illegal to be gay?”

Roy was silent for long enough that Ed looked up.

“What?”

“No,” Roy said slowly, “it’s not illegal, per se. But it's extremely frowned upon in the military, or rather, in the public sector in general, and not discussed.”

“Don't get all snippy with me! Why the hell would I know that?”

The tiny, bitter man inside Roy’s chest who was hopelessly in love with Ed turned sadly to his chart that had two columns, LOVES ME and LOVES ME NOT, and put a tick under the latter.

Ed looked down at his paper and added, “I don't know shit about _legislature_ or whatever, and you know I've never followed a law in my life.”

The little lovesick man in Roy’s chest hovered with his stick of chalk between his two columns, confused.

“How could I forget,” Roy finally said. Ed blew a raspberry at him and went back to work.

Roy read the letter over twice more and examined the envelope. The address was Pinako’s but it said _Care Of: FM Roy Mustang_.

Short on options, Roy retreated to the study, shut the door behind him and called Riza at her office. She picked up right away.

“Colonel Hawkeye.”

“Hello.”

“Oh, Roy, hello. I was going to give you a call this evening. What’s the occasion? Is everything alright?”

“I got a letter from the military,” Roy said, “addressed to Edward’s home.”

Riza hesitated, and then he knew it was her.

She said, “The alternative was having them call you, which I didn’t think you’d prefer.”

“Certainly not, thank you. They asked where I was?”

“Yes. Someone from personnel contacted me specifically about your whereabouts. They said they’d sent weeks worth of letters to your home with no reply.”

“Did they sound upset that I’d left Central?”

“I don’t think the young man on the phone had much stake in it, so no.”

Roy ran his finger through dust on Pinako’s desk and felt a pang of grief over a woman he’d never known. He could see her hunched over that desk, scratching at a banker’s pad with a stubby carpenter’s pencil. “I don’t suppose you told him the address belonged to Edward Elric.”

“No, I had it in my address book. I’ve sent him parcels there.” A rush of static came over the line; a bad connection. “What did they say?”

“Just that I have to return to speak in front of a committee about my ongoing employment.”

“That’s… ominous.”

“It’s fine. If I can be honest with you, I’m alarmed by how little I care.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“No, but I have faith. If I want to continue on with the military, I believe I’ll make it happen.”

“You don’t know if you want to?”

“I’m not sure.”

“It’s been over a month.”

“I’ve been trying not to think about it.”

“Roy…”

“It’s been freezing cold here, by the way. Has it been cold in the city?”

“It isn’t so bad, no.” Riza paused. “How are things with Edward?”

Roy’s drawn finger in the desk dust led to a photo frame he’d never noticed before, leaned up against a stack of books. He turned it over.

It was a photograph of Ed and Winry at one of Ed’s graduations; if Roy had to guess by his age, it was when he got his doctorate. He wore a tailored gray suit with a skinny black tie and his hair was gathered into a ponytail that hung over his shoulder. In one hand he held his new diploma and in his other he held Winry, matching blonde in a shimmering blue dress. They were laughing in that way that parents love to photograph and children hate to see, all teeth and crinkled eyes. They looked beautiful.

“I’m in love with him,” Roy said. It was the first time he’d said it, even to himself.

Riza didn't miss a beat. “That’s wonderful. I’m happy for you.”

“He doesn't know yet.”

“I’m… marginally less happy for you.”

“I’m going to tell him,” he assured her. “I can't live like this. This past month has been… an experience. I’m prepared to get shot down, I just need to know. You understand?”

“Completely.” She sighed. “I’m proud of you, Roy. I don't always understand you, but I’ll always stand by you. You know that.”

Roy set the frame back where he found it.

“Does that mean I can stop by on my way back to Central and you'll get absolutely plastered with me, if he says no?”

“I’d like you to stop by either way, but yes. I’d love to.”

“Thank you. I knew I could count on you.”

She hesitated again, which wasn't like her. Roy knew that she was just as bad at talking through feelings as he was, she just hid it better.

“Be careful,” she said. “Please. Not to suggest that you don't know what you're doing, only that you—you're quite the romantic. I don't know if you know that.”

“I’m aware, unfortunately.”

“I just don't want this to go differently than the way you planned it, and—you know I love Edward, and I don't want to have to choose sides if this goes especially south. Because I’ll choose you and lose him. And because him and Alphonse are a package deal, I’ll lose him, too.”

“It won't go so badly.” Roy examined the spines of Pinako’s books; mostly texts on mechanics and circuitry and a few on anatomy. “I won't corner him. I won't throw a tantrum when he turns me down.”

“ _If_ he turns you down.”

“Six of one, half dozen of the other. He's grown surprisingly thoughtful over the years. If he has to rip my heart out, I don't think he’ll stomp on it unless I force him to.”

Another pause.

She said, “Well. I’m glad you're being so mature about this, in any case.”

“I know you're being sarcastic and I don't care. Just so you know. I’m being realistic.”

“I’m sure.”

Roy glanced at the closed door, as if to check that he was still alone. “You don’t sound surprised,” he said carefully.

“About Edward?”

“Yes.”

Riza sighed. “That’s probably because I’m not.”

In that moment, Roy appreciated her more than he had words for.

“I’ll call when I’m on my way to the city.”

  
  


After that call, Roy was a man with resolve. Riza knew that he wanted to tell Ed, which made him accountable because he had never willingly let Riza down in his life. He went upstairs, showered, shaved and combed his hair. He put on his favourite sweater and wool socks and sat on his bed for a few long moments, trying to string together what he wanted to say.

When he returned to the living room, Ed was gone. His blanket was piled up where he had been sitting, topped with his folded reading glasses. Roy stuck his head into the kitchen and spotted him through the glass doors, doing push-ups on the patio. He he muscles in his back moved beneath his thin shirt and Roy’s long-dormant libido gave him an unwelcome kick in the gut. The sight of Ed’s two human arms gave Roy a kick in the heart, instead; it always had and he imagined it always would.

Against his better judgement, he crossed the kitchen and opened the patio door. Ed immediately leapt up and sat back on his heels, his face flushed with exertion.

“Hello,” he said, crouched on his haunches on the patio, wearing a t-shirt in the dead of winter. “What's up?”

“What are you doing?”

“Exercise. I usually do it when you're asleep, but you got up early and then I was working.”

“I see,” Roy said.“Correct me if I’m wrong, but you don’t fight anymore. Is there a reason you keep training?”

Ed hauled himself to his feet and leaned against the patio railing.

“Do you want the quick answer or the dark answer?”

Roy didn’t think about it for very long. “Both.”

Ed slipped by him into the house and as he passed close through the doorway, Roy could smell the sharp tang of his sweat and his brain went haywire.

“Nothing scares me more than my body giving up on me as I age. I’ve had enough mobility issues to last a lifetime and the thought of ending up old and sick makes me wanna kill myself.” He went to the sink and filled a glass of water. “The quick answer is that I like staying fit.”

Roy was speechless. Ed looked at him just quickly, blank and serious, and then away. He reminded Roy of the haunted, volatile youth he was when he first met him. Eventually, Roy said, “Only you would give the dark answer first.”

Ed shrugged. “It's the truth.”

Neither of them spoke for a long few seconds, but Ed didn't leave the room, either. He drank his water. Roy looked at him and thought of all that Ed had been through and how strange and lucky it was that the man who came out the other side of all that hardship was this smart, thoughtful, mostly-kind person who stood before him. There were so many other ways it could have gone.

“I’m cold just looking at you,” Roy said, nodding at Ed’s shirt. “You don't want a sweater?”

“I’m going for a run, and being cold makes me run faster.” Ed set his glass down. “You wanna come with?”

Roy stuttered. “I—I didn’t bring anything to run in.”

“You could borrow something of mine. _Don’t laugh_ , my sweats would fit you. They’re too big on me.”

“Ask me again another day,” Roy said. Ed smiled and shrugged and went to leave the kitchen when Roy made himself say, “Wait,” and he stopped.

“Hm?”

“There’s a restaurant in the village. That little place at the end of the lane with the cat statue in the window.”

“There sure is,” Ed said. “Do you want to go? It’s nothing to write home about.”

“I would, if you’d like to come with me.”

“Tonight?”

“If you’re free.”

“I’d planned a big night of going over figures I’ve gone over twenty times already, but I think I can pencil you in somewhere.”

Ed grinned at him and trotted out of the kitchen. As he passed by him, he patted his arm, and Roy was sure it was supposed to be funny and patronizing but it sent a spike of lightning down his spine anyways.

  
  


Roy spent the rest of the morning avoiding Ed like the well-adjusted adult he was. He brushed his teeth three times and took Wan on such a long walk that he got tired and Roy had to carry him back. In the afternoon, he sat silently on the sofa reading a book while Ed worked on the floor. He’d taken to sitting on a pillow instead of directly on the hardwood, which Roy approved of.

Eventually, Ed got up and left the room. The shower ran upstairs. When he came back down almost an hour later, his hair was clean, loose and bouncy, and he was wearing a big blue sweatshirt and jeans.

“Shall we? I feel like we should go before it gets _dark_ dark, which is at four p.m. lately”

“Absolutely.”

They got their shoes on in the foyer and Ed said, “That’s the good thing about long hair,” and shrugged his coat on with his hair tucked into the collar, trailing down his back. “Insulation.”

They made their way into the village not saying much; they commented on the weather and Wan, but otherwise, it was a comfortable silence. Roy offered Ed a cigarette and he politely declined. The restaurant in question, one of Resembool’s only establishments, was a charming, cramped little place that, as far as Roy could tell from his few walks by it, served noodles.

“I’m glad you wanted to go out,” Ed said as he shucked his coat in the restaurant’s doorway. “We’re extremely out of groceries.”

Roy grimly chalked up another point for HE LOVES ME NOT.

They were shown to a glass-topped table near the kitchen with a tiny vase of pink plastic flowers in the centre that had a handwritten drinks menu propped up against it. Ed picked it up first, raised his eyebrows at it, then handed it to Roy.

“Your call,” he said, which Roy found very diplomatic: they served nothing but the worst, most commonplace beers, and by snubbing his nose at them, Ed had also given Roy a reason to say no that didn't involve his struggle with alcoholism.

“It's not a wine-type place,” Roy said, “but would you be interested in splitting a pitcher?”

Ed gave him a short, “Sure,” free of judgement. Roy wasn't so brave that he couldn't use the liquid courage. The server came by, took their orders and left, then returned shortly after with a pitcher of beer and two glasses. The whole time, Ed had his look on his face like something was pleasantly funny.

“I used to come here with Granny and Al and Win,” he explained as he filled their glasses. “Once in a while, when we had the money or it was someone’s birthday or something, we’d get these giant plates of greasy food to share and just go nuts.” He slid Roy’s glass towards him. “It’s beyond weird to be here with you, now.”

Roy hummed. “Sorry to disrupt the memory.”

“No, no, not like that, it's making a new memory. Feels very… family. In a nice way.”

He smiled warmly at Roy and Roy’s stupid heart thudded in his chest. If he looked nervous, Ed didn’t seem to notice.

“So,” Ed went on, “normally when we go out to dinner, we talk about our work. But you've been immersed in my work for weeks, so there's nothing new I can tell you about it, and you're not working right now.” He took a sip of his beer. “So we’re gonna have to dig real deep for this one.”

Roy laughed. “That’s fine by me. I think we can manage.”

Ed gestured at the pitcher. “You feel okay drinking?”

“Yes. I’m feeling… better. A bit. Lately.”

“Good!” Ed smiled brightly. “You seem better.”

“Thank you.” Roy appreciated it, but wanted to steer the conversation away from his career and future. “I’m still trying not to smoke, but it’s a work in progress.”

“Baby steps.”

He glanced around the restaurant; only a few other diners dotted the handful of tables in the room. Poorly painted forests scenes in gilded frames hung on the walls and a fern sat dead in a pot in the corner. The incandescent ceiling lights were too bright and Roy knew he looked old and wrinkled under that kind of scrutiny.

“Relationships.” He heard himself say it before he decided to. Ed looked both confused and delighted.

“Relationships,” he said back. “That’s spicier than alchemistry. What about relationships?”

Roy had planned this on the walk over.

“You never told me what happened between you and Winry, if you don’t mind me asking. I know it’s absolutely none of my business and extremely old news, but between friends, I’m curious.”

He only un-tensed when Ed laughed.

“You’re so weird,” Ed said, taking a drink. “Yeah, for sure. I don’t know. I don’t talk about it much because it’s awkward, not because it’s awful.”

“What makes it awkward?”

Ed slunk down in his seat. “All breakups are awkward. No matter how it goes, someone’s always hurt. You have to move your stuff out of someone’s house. You feel like shit.”

“Who broke up with who?”

Ed’s thumb traced patterns into the condensation on his glass. “If we’re being technical, I broke up with her.”

Roy wished he didn’t find all this so fascinating. Ed could read him a detailed list of all the bookmarks he’d ever used in his life and he would be riveted. “I’m sorry. We don’t have to talk about it if—”

“God, it’s been—how long? Five years? I’m fine, it’s just awkward.” Ed laughed and scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Win and I are best friends, there’s no bad blood or anything, it’s just… strange.”

“Strange how?”

“Like how when you grow up with someone, you love them because you have no concept of _not_ loving them, but you take a step back and it's all different. And maybe that means you don't wanna… I don't know. It's different.”

Roy thought immediately of Riza. “I understand.”

“Yeah. It just got stale— _and_ , before you snark, I don't mean sex. It's like… you invent things to talk about because you don't actually have anything in common except for the fact that you love each other. And it sucks, but loving each other’s not enough.” He scratched his head. “Or it wasn't for me, anyways.”

Roy thought of every time he'd seen Ed and Winry together in the time he'd known them and whether he saw any hint of that. He hadn’t been paying attention.

Ed went on. “So I got snippy and mean, and she doesn’t deserve that. We were together for eight years, so it got to a point where we either had to get married or break up. And we broke up.”

Roy went quiet. Ed didn’t look particularly upset, just tired; a thousand yard stare and the fidgety discomfort of a man who loathed talking about himself in any way that wasn’t bragging.

“I’m sorry,” Roy said. “That sounds awful.”

“It wasn’t so bad in retrospect. I mean, there was the usual banal bullshit, too. I’m emotionally unavailable, apparently, and she cries when she's mad. She wanted kids right away and I have daddy issues.”

Roy choked on his beer and Ed laughed at him.

“I knew that would get you,” he said.

The server showed up with their dishes and Roy was left to think about the phrase _daddy issues_ while they ate; they both got soup with fat noodles, slices of rare beef and rich, oily broth. It was better than Roy expected and he felt guilty for thinking it wouldn't be.

Between mouthfuls, he asked, _“Are_ you emotionally unavailable?”

Ed was pouring another beer. “Compared to you? No. But in the grand scheme of life, definitely.”

They downed their soup without saying much. Roy didn't realize how hungry he was. The server came by and asked if they wanted another pitcher and Ed glanced at Roy before declining. Roy was pleased: on a night in Central, Ed would have ordered another pitcher immediately, unless Roy beat him to it, and they'd drink until three in the morning, laughing and arguing so loudly that the server would come by and ask repeatedly if they were ready for the bill, more of a suggestion than a question. That was a certain kind of fun, but the Ed that Roy had gotten to know in Resembool wasn’t a “second pitcher” kind of guy. This Ed played with children and missed his brother and was almost, _almost_ soft-spoken, as much as any Elric could be. Roy didn't have favourite Eds, but he was growing extremely fond of this one.

“As long as we’re sticking our noses into each other’s personal lives,” Ed said, leaning his chair back on two legs, “I get a question, too.”

“Go ahead.”

“How long were you with Hawkeye? I was never really sure. I have a ballpark, but it's big one.”

Roy cracked a bemused smile. “And what's your guess?”

“I _think_ that it was about three years, around 1920. You talked about her more and smiled a lot, and she got dinner with us that one time.”

Roy couldn't even begin to place the time Ed was talking about.

“While I’m flattered that you keep such a detailed history of my goings-on,” he said, ignoring Ed’s snort, “you couldn't be more wrong. We were never together.”

Seeing genuine surprise on Ed’s face was an early Christmas gift.

“You're kidding.”

“Not at all. What you said about how you can’t imagine not loving someone struck home.” Roy drank. “Confidentially, we slept together a few times, years and years ago, but that was more just something between friends, if that makes sense.”

Ed raised his eyebrows. “Wow.”

“It had its time and place, but her and I are too close. Not to mention that I’m not her type.”

“Having met Mark, I get that. You’re too soft for her.”

Roy huffed. “She only _pretends_ to not like soft.”

“More importantly, I’m surprised that she’s _your_ type.”

Roy blanked. “I… what?”

Ed leaned back in his chair again. “I wasn’t sure if you liked women.”

Roy went rigid with nerves. “Oh.”

“Yeah. You never said. I remember people always talked a bunch when I was a kid, like you were some hotshot on the dating scene, but I know that’s not…” Ed made a series of faces as he searched for the right words. “Empirical data.”

Roy grimaced. “It’s complicated. As most things are.”

“I bet.” Ed leaned in and even though it was over something so embarrassing, Roy was glad to be worth Ed’s undivided attention. Not much was. “So you’ve had boyfriends?”

“Not many,” Roy said. He was telling the truth: zero wasn’t many at all.

“Anyone I know?”

“No.”

“Wild.” Ed’s eyes still gleamed, like Roy was a puzzle to be solved. “But I’ve met Daniel before. He—”

“Oh, no. No. He and I were never… together.”

“Oh! Alright.” Ed poked a basil leaf around in the dregs of his broth. “Makes sense. Bit young for you.”

Roy felt winded. “A bit.”

Ed had a way of disarming him without even trying. Some days, Roy thought it was impossible that he didn't know _._ Roy had spent over a month not talking about Daniel, but now that he came up, it felt cowardly to avoid it.

“It was just a very, very bad day,” he said quietly. “Daniel just happened to be there. Someone walked in and saw us.”

“You weren't…”

“It was just a kiss.” Roy finished the last of his beer. “It’s funny to think that all this came from just that. Just being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

He didn't tell Ed that his kiss with Daniel was his first and only kiss with a man, or that the night he kissed Daniel was the same night he screamed at Ed in the street. He had probably already put that last part together, but Roy wasn't about to ask. He thought it might come up in whatever he said to Ed later.

“That’s awful,” Ed said, and it sounded like he meant it. “Five minutes earlier and all this would’ve been avoided. You’d be in Central right now like nothing ever happened.”

Roy stared down into his bowl, patterns of chili oil like gasoline on its white surface. “I don’t know if that would be a good thing. I think this needed to happen. I can’t even begin to tell you how horrible the past year has been. Or, I guess I already did.”

“I guess.”

Roy shook his head. “When you mentioned Daniel, I thought I’d tell you something about him, just conversationally, but I don’t know a single thing about him. I didn’t listen or get to know him. For the past year, I couldn’t tell you a thing about anyone I met. Like I was in a haze.”

Ed didn’t say anything. Roy kept looking at his bowl. After a brief interlude, he was back to feeling sorry for himself, and he wondered if he’d ever stop. He knew he had to tell Ed how he felt because he’d made up his mind, he’d committed, but he couldn’t imagine Ed returning feelings to the man he was now: shy and nervous, his shoulders permanently slumped.

“It seems like you’re doing better,” Ed said. Roy looked up and was met with a sad, honest smile. “If that helps at all.”

Roy was ashamed that it did. “Thank you for saying so.”

Ed shrugged like he was embarrassed, too. “Just telling the truth.”

  
  


They split the bill because Ed physically shoved money into the hostess’ hand. On the walk back to Pinako’s, he was less bubbly than he normally was after two pints, but, Roy figured, it was no surprise that the evening’s conversation had worn him down. He wasn't sure if that would make their imminent conversation harder or easier. The sun hadn't quite set, nearing twilight, the sky still clinging to scraps of brightness while the land was bathed in shadow.

“That was a great idea,” Ed said, trotting along next to Roy. “Thanks.”

“Thank _you_.” Roy got out the smokes he'd been itching for since halfway through dinner. He lit one with a lighter, having left his gloves at home; he felt safer in Resembool than he did in Central, if for no other reason than the difference in population per square kilometre.

Ed said, “Give me one,” and Roy nearly dropped the pack.

“I’m sorry?”

Ed held his hand out. Not sure how he would argue with him or whether he wanted to, Roy lit a cigarette and handed it to him.

“Thank you,” Ed said, and he didn’t say anything else about it. They walked close enough that Roy swore their coats brushed.

Before long, Pinako’s house loomed above them. Roy expected to feel the calm of a man before his execution as they drew closer and closer to the moment he’d been waiting for, because there was nothing he could do to stop it. He would tell him, and that’s all there was. But, as he faced the possibility of the night coming to a close before he could stop it—Ed might say goodnight as soon as they stepped inside, leaving Roy to start their conversation while Ed had one foot on the bottom step—his palms began to sweat and his mind raced.

He stubbed his smoke out on the porch railing and as he opened his mouth to speak, Ed cut him off.

“I’m not done,” he said, holding up his own cigarette. “Sit with me.”

He motioned to an ancient green-painted bench under the window and sat on it. Roy joined him, sitting as far away from him as the small bench would allow.

“You smoke fast,” Ed said, somehow accusatory. Roy chuckled.

“Years of experience. What made you want one?”

“I don’t know, I just did. I’ve smoked before.”

“That’s fine.”

Roy looked out at the treeline. He tried to plan his next words in his head, but he kept stumbling. He was beginning to doubt that there was a good way to confess love to one of your oldest friends.

“Stepping on the toes of our earlier conversation,” he started, clearing his throat, “are you seeing anyone? Forgive my ignorance, but you never talk about your personal life.”

Ed sighed; tired, but not mad.

“Nah, it's okay. No, I’m not. I was seeing someone off and on a while ago, but it didn't work out.” Roy saw him raise his smoke to his lips in his peripheral vision and was absorbed in the movement. “It gets to a point where I have to start talking about myself in a serious way, and what am I supposed to say? How do I tell anyone about Mom or Al or the Promised Day or any of that, and how are they supposed to know who I am without it? Most people have no idea what I used to be like, not about the arm or the gate or alchemy or any of it. How the fuck do you tell that to someone you care about? I don't even tell the people I work with why I can’t do alchemy anymore. I make up some bullshit excuse.”

Roy looked down at his clasped hands.

“I can't imagine, Edward.”

Ed laughed. “I tried to tell a girl once. We’d been going out for like half a year, and I really liked her. All I told her was about Mom—that Al and I tried to bring her back and that's how I lost my leg. I didn't tell her about my arm or Al and the suit or any of that, I didn’t even get into the gate. Just Mom. But _boy_ , is that some heavy baggage.”

“What happened?”

“She took it pretty hard. Didn't know what to say. After, I’d catch her looking at me with this really, really sad look on her face, and I knew she was thinking about it.” Ed sat all the way back on the bench so his heels didn't quite touch the porch. “So it fizzled out. As it does. Christ, think of trying to tell someone about Nina Tucker. I’ve gotta carry that around my whole life. I can't ever, ever tell anyone.”

Roy closed his eyes and thought of the homunculus and he swore he could smell singed flesh.

“I completely understand.”

The bench creaked as Ed swung his feet, just a little. It was getting colder by the minute but Roy couldn't and would never move.

“You _do_ , don't you?” Ed said, nearly a whisper. Roy opened his eyes and glanced over at him, and he was already looking back. With just the porch light on behind him, it was hard to make out the details of his face. He reached down and stubbed out his cigarette on the underside of the bench, but made no move to go inside.

“Unfortunately,” Roy whispered back. He looked back at the forest. The sky was peach, the trees and hills below it bathed in deep, rich blue with the impending night. “At least we have an excuse for being undateable.”

Ed laughed softly.

“Shut up and put your arm around me.”

He picked up Roy’s arm by the wrist and lifted it over his shoulders.

Roy’s heart beat in his throat as Ed settled into his side, tucked under his arm, and didn’t say anything else. He could smell his hair and his laundry-fresh sweatshirt and he was so warm and solid and he drowned in him. He breathed shallowly and didn’t move a muscle, like he might scare him off. For a moment, he thought he'd blacked out and woken up in the future. Did he already tell Ed? Did Ed say yes?

Ed mumbled, “Your heart’s racing.”

Roy, at a complete loss, said, “Yes, it is.”

Neither of them spoke. Half of Roy was cold and the half that Ed curled into was on fire. He dredged his mind for how he used to act in situations like this when he was young, smooth and invincible—he’d reach down to tip a woman’s face up to meet his, stroke her cheek, put his hand on her leg. Ed’s thigh was pressed to his, his right one. He looked at his hand resting in his own lap and couldn’t make it move to Ed’s, petrified and overthinking.

“What are we doing?” he finally whispered, his voice weak even to him.

“Right now, or in general?”

“Both. I don’t know. This past month. Me staying here. This.” Roy turned his head towards Ed’s, almost tucked under his chin. “This is me trying something new where I’m upfront and honest with the people in my life.”

“Shocking,” Ed said. Roy watched as Ed lifted his hand and slowly, slowly, brought it down on his leg. “Me too.”

Roy couldn’t speak. Ed could.

“I know you’re all fragile right now—don’t say you’re not—so I know it’s probably not the best time, but I can’t be the only one who thinks we’ve always had this… I don’t know. Are you good to talk about this?”

Roy couldn't stop staring at Ed’s hand on his leg and he choked out, “Yes,” a _yes_ he'd been waiting his whole life to say. Ed shifted and his hair brushed Roy’s cheek. He took a deep breath.

“At first I thought I was just a weird kid with a crush on my annoying boss. But then I wasn’t a kid, and you weren’t my boss, and it still stuck around.” His free hand picked at a fraying seam near his knee. “I didn’t say anything ‘cause I thought you were straight, obviously, so why bother? Not to mention the whole becoming Führer thing. But then there was _this,_ but I thought… if you’d liked guys all along and we never got together, then you must not be into me. Which was fine. But I’m stupid as hell, so I still wanted you to come here like I had a shot, and now you’re saying and doing all this sweet stuff and I’m thinking that maybe you… you _are_ into me.” He paused. _“Into me_ probably isn’t the right phrase, but it’s vague enough that I’m comfortable with it.”

Stars fell from the sky. The ocean boiled. Roy got goosebumps all down his arms. Ed’s hand was still on his leg. Ed’s hand was still on his leg. Ed’s hand was still on his leg.

Ed said, “I’m gonna need you to say something soon or I’m gonna start feeling really, really stupid.”

“I’m thinking,” Roy said quietly. Ed waited. Roy felt like his entire life had led up to that moment and his words came out naturally, like he had always been waiting to say them. “You are—and have always been—one of my favourite people in the entire world. And getting to know you better these past few weeks has been one of the happiest times of my life, despite everything.”

Ed turned slightly towards him. “Yeah?”

Roy made himself go on.

“It makes me wonder… even more so than I already have… what it might be like to be with you. And then it breaks my heart that we’ve waited so long.”

Ed sat up. He was glowing, beautiful, biting back a smile, his breath clouding in the air.

“Are we still waiting?”

“It’s a bad idea.”

“Do you _actually_ think it’s a bad idea?”

“There’s a reason we haven’t yet.”

He didn’t mean it. His jaw was trembling. His arm was still around Ed’s shoulders and Ed’s face was so close to his, smiling, visibly nervous in a way that was so deeply endearing.

Ed said, “Because we’re both stubborn and more than a little self-deprecating?”

“That… sounds about right.”

Ed’s hand moved on his leg. He stroked his leg exactly once and it was somehow friendly, reassuring, as if Roy were a skittish colt. Ed had big hands, tanned and impossibly warm, his left more scarred than his right. He leaned in.

“Is it such a bad idea that you don’t want to kiss me?”

Roy couldn’t breathe and stuttered out, “I’ve spent so much time trying _not_ to kiss you that I don’t know what I’d do with myself if I finally did.”

Ed was so close that he could feel his breath on his face.

He whispered, “I wanna find out.”

He tipped his head and pressed his lips to Roy’s, and after over a decade of indecision, neither of them were waiting any more.

They surged in. Ed’s mouth was soft and yielding and Roy was so dizzy and his hands shook as he ran them through Ed’s hair and pulled him closer, kissed him deeper, pushing into it every ounce of _I want you I need you I love you I want you_ that he’d saved up for the past ten years.

Ed grabbed his face and spoke between kisses.

“I have—so fucking much—to say to you—”

“I know.” Roy kissed him. “Christ, I _adore_ you—” He kissed him. He’d been waiting a lifetime to tell him that. He kissed him. He had never thought about anything else, he had never been anywhere else, he was born on and would die on the rickety bench on Pinako Rockbell’s front porch, with his arms around Ed. Ed, who had started to laugh.

“You son of a bitch, the—the whole time? _The_ _whole time?”_

Roy kissed him. “Most of it.” He smoothed his hair back and kissed him. “Shh, get mad at me later,” he said, and Ed laughed against his mouth and he kissed him. Ed wrapped his arms around his neck and dragged him in, made him brace his arms on the back of the bench to lean over him. Nations rose and crumbled and there was never anywhere else that Roy had ever wanted to be. Ed kissed like an angel, pushy and sweet and focused, and Roy’s heart beat triple time. It didn't feel real. Ed ran his thumbs down his cheeks and it didn't feel real.

“Roy,” Ed breathed, thick and sweet, “you stupid son of a bitch.”

Roy ( _Roy_ _Roy_ _Roy_ _Roy_ _ROY_ ) decided during the first second that he kissed Ed that he was never going to stop. Minutes has passed since then and he knew he wasn't ever going to stop. He was a man of his word and he didn't ever quit; he'd risen through the ranks of the military faster than anyone thought he would, he schmoozed with political bigwigs long after it made him want to plug his ears and scream, and he would keep kissing Ed until death by exhaustion, and neither man nor beast could tear him away.

“Gotta—go in—” Ed mumbled against his lips, “‘S freezing out here.”

That was enough. Roy struggled to his feet and Ed remained attached to him. Ed reached his hand back and fumbled for the screen door as they kissed, got fed up after a second and whirled around to yank it open. He dragged Roy inside as if Roy wouldn’t do everything he could to follow of his own free will. In the foyer, he held Ed’s face in his hands and looked at him. It was him, the same Edward that he’d lived with for weeks, the same Edward he’d known for over half Ed’s life. The illustrious Edward Elric, the very same.

“We should talk ab—”

Ed put his hands around Roy’s wrists and pulled them down. “Not yet,” he said, and kissed him again, hard. Roy knew a bigger man would have insisted, but that wasn’t him, not then. He let Ed run his hands up his arms and into his hair and he held him by his waist, by his back, drowning in the sweet-wet feel of his lips and tongue. He didn’t realize how much he missed human touch until then, and part of him wanted to cry. Ed gathered him in and held him and kissed him, and for that handful of minutes, he didn't think about anything else.

Ed was the first to move back, his face flushed, his eyes wild and excited. He snagged Roy’s fingers with his own and pulled him to the living room.

“C’mon, sit, sit, I’m losing my mind.”

They sat on the couch angled towards each other, knees knocking. Roy’s mind raced and stumbled as he tried to get out ten years of thoughts and feelings and questions in ten seconds.

He said, “You were always braver than me. I should have known you'd beat me to this.”

“Are you kidding? I thought I was gonna throw up. I’m not good at this stuff, you're the one who’s the—the Casanova or whatever.”

“I haven't been any kind of Casanova for a very long time.”

He kissed Ed just because he could; his eyes fell shut and Ed’s fingers brushed his. He put his hand on Ed’s knee and was only momentarily startled by the hardness of steel.

Ed leaned back and said, “Tell me everything,” sounding exactly as loopy and dreamy as he looked. “How long have you felt like this?”

“It’s hard to say,” Roy admitted. “I wouldn’t see you for months at a time and I realized how much I looked forward to our dinners. And then when I was there, I’d think about reaching across the table to touch your hand. And then other things.” He glanced up at Ed. “You're an extraordinary man, Edward.”

He wasn't sure he'd ever seen Ed look so immensely pleased. “Right back at you.”

“Regardless,” Roy went on, “it snuck up on me. I didn’t let myself think about it. It was too much. You… you’re _you.”_

Ed laughed. He worked his thumb over the inside of Roy’s wrist. “I get that. Given, you know, everything, there’s a history. It scared the shit out of me to even think about.”

“Right.” Roy turned their hands over. “Earlier, you said… a kid with a crush on your boss.”

“I said a _weird_ kid with a crush on my _annoying_ boss, but yeah.” Ed scratched his arm. “It’s been a while for me. Not that I was like, in _love_ with you when I was a kid. You pissed me off constantly, I was just dumb and horny and ‘didn’t have a healthy outlet for my aggression’ or whatever Al calls it.”

 _Love_ pricked at something raw and nervous in the centre of Roy’s chest. He chose not to address it and focused all his energy on not being profoundly uncomfortable with the thought of fifteen-year-old Ed being dumb and horny in ways that involved him.

Ed said, “That freaks you out, doesn’t it?”

“Not… much.”

“I couldn’t help it, and it’s not like I told you back then! I think I waited long enough.”

“I know, I know.” Roy skimmed fingers down the lines in Ed’s palms, obsessed with just touching him. “It’s just funny to think about in retrospect.”

“Very. If it helps, I only started actually _liking_ you after you stopped being a condescending dick to me because I didn’t work for you anymore.”

“I was a condescending dick to you to stop your head from getting any bigger than it was.”

“Not necessary.”

“Extremely necessary. You were hand-picked to be a state alchemist at age ten and got to traipse across the country on the military’s dime and your own prestige. If I didn’t keep you in your place, no one would.”

Ed snorted. “We’ve got very different memories of how you and I interacted if you think you kept me in my place in any way.”

“Well, let me pretend I commanded some kind of respect.”

“I guess you did. Not as much as you do now.” Ed reached up and ran his fingers through Roy’s silvered fringe. “You’ve got that distinguished look now. You were plucky back then, especially if you were standing next to Hughes.”

Roy was once so naive that he thought there would be a day when it didn’t hurt to hear Hughes’ name.

“Can't argue with that,” he said.

Ed slid his hand through Roy’s hair and closed it around the back of his neck. He whispered, “This is crazy. This is _crazy_. I can just—” He leaned in and kissed him, soft and quick. “I can just _do that._ ”

Roy sunk into his touch, stitching together a decade of interactions.

“At Cain’s wedding, when we were all sitting in that gazebo, absolutely wasted, you put your hands on my chest—I don't remember why, but—”

“I was so close to kissing you, I swear. I would've gone for it if Breda hadn't hurled.”

“I thought about that moment for years, Edward. _Years.”_

“Well, what about that time we were in East City? It was ages ago and we were… God, I forget where, but you brushed my hair behind my ear or something and I thought I was gonna _die.”_

“The carnival,” Roy said, slowly remembering. “After you finished your work on the alchemical protein separator. We were celebrating and you were so happy and you looked just… absolutely stunning. I can’t believe you remember that.”

“Of course I do. You don’t make a habit of touching people.” Ed let go of him and ran a hand through his hair. “We’re pretty stupid, huh?”

“It was shortly after you and Winry broke up,” Roy said softly. “I thought about you constantly then, I won't lie. But it wasn't the right time.”

“I would've jumped your bones if you came onto me. For like a year after me and Win ended things, I went a little nuts with all that stuff.”

“That's why I didn't want to.” Roy risked a glance at Ed, who was already looking back. “You're… important to me. I didn't want to ruin anything that could have been.”

“I know.” Ed’s eyes burned with intensity. “But now?”

It wasn't a good time, but Roy worried that there would never be a good time. He could still feel Ed’s hair between his fingers, still taste him on his tongue, and he was a man possessed. He was tired of waiting and longing and second-guessing. He vaguely remembered being a man who was confident enough to take what he wanted.

“Now is a great time,” he said. Ed’s mouth was back on his before he finished speaking.

Being the focus of such passionate attention was intoxicating and Roy struggled to keep up; Ed’s hands were everywhere, fisted in his sweater and dragging him closer, curled around his hip, stroking the back of his neck. They kissed until Ed was half in his lap and there was nowhere to go but further, when it was Roy who said, “I’ve never seen it, but I assume you have a bedroom in here somewhere.”

Ed sat back and grinned at him and he was so unabashedly happy that Roy couldn't look directly at him.

“What, you don't want to cram into your little twin bed?”

“We could if you want.”

Ed’s kiss was a wordless _shut up._ He led the way upstairs, flicking off lights as he went. Roy watched his hair swing behind him as he walked and he asked, “Did you wear your hair down today because you were planning on talking to me about this and you know I like it down?”

There was a long silence, and then, “That’s a baseless accusation.”

They entered a room at the end of the hall that Roy knew was Ed’s. He stood in the dark as Ed went to the bedside lamp and turned it on. Bathed in light, his bedroom was big and warm, messy and lived in, with clothes on the floor and a stack of notebooks on the nightstand. There was a small washroom off to the side that Roy didn't know existed and a big, dark window on the other wall.

“Lovely,” Roy said, just before Ed kissed him.

The bed was so soft that they sunk into it and Roy lost his balance. Ed straddled him and settled over his hips, pulled him into a searing kiss, ran a steel foot down his calf. He was a force of nature and Roy was more than happy to close his eyes and be carried along by his current. Ed slid a hand between his legs and he grabbed his ass and dragged him against his hip and felt Ed keen against his lips.

When Ed started fumbling with his slacks, he stuttered, “Wait.”

Ed pulled back, his loose hair falling like a curtain around their faces. “Wait what?”

“I haven't—I mean, I don't have much—or any—uh, experience. In this specific arena. At all. Ever.”

Roy’s face was on fire. Ed stared down at him, bewildered.

“Are you serious or just being cute?”

“I’m serious.”

“Not even…?" He made a jerk-off motion with his fist. Nervous laughter bubbled out of Roy.

“Nothing at all.”

 _“Crazy_ ,” Ed breathed, in what sounded suspiciously like wonder.

“Please don't make fun of me. We—we can talk about it later if you—"

“No no no, it's cool! Don't worry about it.” Ed sat back on his heels, still braced over Roy. “In that case, we can start with something you're probably still pretty familiar with.”

He snapped an elastic from around his wrist and gathered his hair back into a ponytail. If Roy had been any less nervous, he would have smiled like an idiot.

Ed pulled his slacks off for him, foot by foot. He pushed his shirt up and kissed down his chest and stomach and Roy stared at the stippled ceiling. He touched his ribs, skimmed fingers along his hip bones and held him. Roy held his breath, aware of all the ways his body was letting him down, everything that sagged where it used to be taut.

“I can _feel_ you freaking out,” Ed said against his skin, the curve of his smile pressed to Roy’s bare thigh. He slid his briefs down. “Relax. It's just me.”

He took him in his mouth and Roy’s soul left his body. He whined and he was sure he felt Ed struggle not to laugh. Ed moved slowly, deep and methodical and practiced. Roy twisted his fingers in the comforter and the only sound in the room was his choked breath and the quiet, wet sound of Ed’s mouth; there was no traffic, no birdsong, no ambient din of life, and it was intimate and stifling, like they were the only two people left on earth.

Roy found Ed’s free hand and covered it with his own. Ed hummed around his cock and a shudder rolled down his spine. For the first time in weeks, Roy shut off his racing mind. He let himself be sucked off. He wasn’t anyone and he wasn’t anywhere. For about five minutes, he was just a guy getting excellent head from a wonderful, beautiful man whom he adored.

He squeezed Ed’s shoulder and said, “Ed,” in warning, more out of an inability to say two syllables than any increased intimacy. Ed, competitive and stubborn, deep-throated him. Roy sobbed, covered his face with his hands and came in his mouth, arching off the bed, digging his heels into his back. It was overwhelming and perfect and it had been so long since he had been with anyone that it almost felt new.

Ed didn’t let him go until he smacked him in the head. Then he sat back and wiped his mouth with the heel of his palm.

“That was the perfect amount of time. Not so long that I take it as an insult, but long enough to really get going.”

Roy couldn’t speak. He reached out and Ed leaned over him and kissed him, his lips raw, his spit bitter, and he didn’t want to let him go. He could feel him hard against his thigh and anxiety pricked in his fingers again, in the yawning unknown he'd spent his entire life thinking about.

“Do you want…” He had no idea what he wanted to say and was relieved when Ed kissed him quiet.

“I’ll be quick,” he whispered. “That was… extremely nice.”

Ed climbed off him and pulled his jeans and boxers down in one motion. Roy sat up on his elbows to watch him, silent and awed. His dick was thick and flushed and his skin was pale with winter and decorated with scars, including a wide, misshapen slice that flashed at his abdomen when his sweatshirt rode up. He kept the sweatshirt on with an explanation of, “It’s cold,” and crawled back onto the bed, settling again over Roy’s hips.

Despite all the time Roy spent imagining being in bed with a half-naked Edward Elric, he froze up, his hands spread out on his thighs. Ed leaned down and kissed him, which helped.

“Just touch me,” Ed said against his mouth, “don’t worry about it.”

Roy did worry about it. He’d made it to middle age without having been with a man, having never touched a dick that wasn’t his own, and that worried him deeply. Ed being understanding didn’t make it any less embarrassing. He wrapped a cautious hand around him and the shudder that rolled through his body was encouraging enough to keep him from bursting into flames. Ed rocked into his fist and dug his hands into his hair, kissed him slow and shaky and made these quiet sounds that drove him crazy. True to his word, it wasn’t long before he seized up, buried his face in Roy’s shoulder and came into his fist with a muffled shout.

Roy’s body and mind throbbed with adrenaline and a cocktail of nerves, elation, trepidation and the unravelling of ten years of sexual tension.

He extracted his hand from between their bodies and spat Ed’s hair out of his mouth. “Christ almighty.”

Ed turned his head and laughed against his neck. “Fuckin’ finally.”

Ed sat next to him on the bed and pulled his sweatshirt down over his dick in some belated bashfulness. Roy just looked up at him, his arms outstretched on the bed next to him, at a complete loss for what he could he say.

He went with, “Thank you,” and felt like an idiot until Ed laughed, reached down and stroked his hair.

“You are very, very welcome.” Ed lied down next to him and sighed. “I’ve wanted to suck your dick ever since I can remember. I’m very at peace, having done it. Nirvana.”

“I’m glad I could be of service.”

“It’ll do wonders for my research. There was a whole chunk of my brain that I had to dedicate to imagining what it would be like to suck your dick, which I can now replace with _memories_ of sucking your dick.”

“And memories are more compact than imaginings.”

“Exactly. Frees up mental real estate for science.”

Ed was far enough away that he could look at Roy and Roy knew that he was; Ed’s attentiveness had a habit of burning through things. Roy closed his eyes and for a few minutes, neither of them spoke. Roy was replaying the interaction in his head—Ed, above him, shaking with pleasure and moving against him, the same Ed he’d always known.

“Alphonse,” Roy said, suddenly. Ed propped up on an elbow.

“I know we’re not actively having sex right this second, but I’d still rather you didn’t say my brother’s name in bed.”

“You mentioned him earlier, about him saying you didn’t have a healthy outlet for your feelings. Was that about me, specifically?”

“What do you mean?”

“Does he know you—” Roy lacked the vocabulary to talk about whatever him and Ed were to each other. “—have feelings for me?”

“Oh! Yeah, of course he knows. I’ve never kept a secret from Al in my life. Why, is that a big deal?”

Roy chose his words very carefully.

“I know I’ve known you both all your lives, and I respect Alphonse, and his decisions, but—”

“Out with it.”

“He doesn’t like me much, does he?”

Ed spoke softly; tender speech was something present in Ed the Lover that was absent in Ed the Friend and Roy was grappling with it. “He’s just protective. He likes you a lot, but he thinks you’re complicated.”

“Complicated.”

He started trailing his fingers idly up Roy’s chest and Roy had a hard time thinking about anything else.

“Yeah. In the sense that I’m gonna run into more problems with a high-ranking military official than with someone who works at a corner store. And Al doesn’t want me to run into any problems, ever.”

“That’s admirable.”

“I guess, but I don’t want uncomplicated.” Ed’s fingers skated up Roy’s throat and tapped against his chin. “I want you.”

Roy tried to act like hearing that didn’t make him scream inside. “Me, who is complicated.”

“Yeah. Goes perfect with me, who is also complicated.”

“That you are.”

“It’s nice. Like we were saying earlier… I don’t have to explain anything to you. You know what it’s like to be sad and knotted up inside. And Al knows that, so I don’t know why he’s being so weird.”

Roy wanted to take the opportunity to stress just how sad and knotted up inside he was, but he didn’t. He knew he had all the time in the world to scare Ed off.

“I’m glad you also felt that he was being weird, I guess.”

“When he was over, you left the room to go to the bathroom or something and I literally hissed at him and bared my talons.”

Roy laughed. “Don’t hold it against him. He just loves you.”

“Well, he could tone it down a bit,” Ed joked. “Plus, he doesn’t like how long I’ve been pining for you. I called him the other week to tell him you were here and he chewed me out—saying it's not healthy for me to keep you around when I have _unresolved feelings._ His words, not mine.”

 _The phone_ _call_ _._ A specific kind of tension in Roy’s chest melted away and he didn't even realize it had been there.

 _“I’ve_ been pining for _you_ ,” he said.

“That’s what I’m gonna tell him. You weren’t being insensitive, you were being… Well, we were both being dumb.” Ed rolled onto his back, his shoulder crammed against Roy’s. “He was really crushed when Win and I broke up. He never told me so, but I think it didn't fit with his perfect vision of how things should go. The childhood sweetheart thing. He's always worried that I’m lonely.”

“I understand that. He wants what's best for you.”

“I know, but it's not like being with somebody is the end all be all of human existence. I’m plenty happy.”

Roy looked over. Ed’s face in profile, in lamplight, was breathtaking. “Are you lonely?”

“Not usually,” Ed said, with the speed and levity of someone who was telling the truth. “Everyone’s lonely sometimes, but I’m not sad, no.”

Roy almost said: _well, goody for you._

“Alphonse married so young,” he said instead. “It’s probably difficult for him to imagine life going any other way.”

“Oh, for sure. And things were never _easy_ easy for him and Mei, but he doesn’t get that sometimes it’s even harder than that. He’s so good that he can’t imagine two people not just… giving it all up to be together. Sometimes there’s more going on.”

“There is,” Roy agreed, solemn. He turned on his side to look at Ed and Ed did the same. The reality of the situation was coming to Roy in pieces: Ed had wanted to look at him like this for just as long as he had wanted to look at Ed. He wondered when it would sink in, when and if he would he stop doubting it. Ed liked him. Ed, in some way, wanted to be with him.

Ed cracked half a smile.

“You look sad,” he said. “What tragic shit are you thinking about already?”

Ed’s smile was a pathetic attempt. For a long, long time, they lied there looking at each other, both terrified of what Roy would say. They were two men who lived thousands of kilometres apart, realizing at a glacier’s pace that they were deeply, violently in love.

Roy whispered, “I’m wondering what we do now.”

Ed’s face fell and Roy knew that he didn't have an answer, either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tw](http://www.twitter.com/cleenteath) / [tu](http://ronibravo.tumblr.com)


	4. dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He waited for the vertigo-kick of being yanked back into the waking world from a dream and it never came.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the delay-- i thought this would be shorter than it was and now that it's long i'm breaking it up into 2 parts. so, one last chapter after this. thanks for your patience.

 

Roy woke up alone in Ed’s bed, disoriented by the unfamiliar colour of the sheets and the sunlight blasting in the giant window. He rolled onto his back and let the last cobwebs of sleep clear from his mind, breathed deeply and tried to find empirical evidence as to whether last night was a dream. His lips felt tender, which was pretty hard evidence.

He found his slacks on the floor and pulled them on, then made his way to Ed’s ensuite bathroom. He felt stupid for never realizing that none of Ed’s toiletries weren’t in the main bathroom; he thought he kept them under the sink. The ensuite was small, a sink, a toilet and stall shower all gathered in together, and Ed’s things were everywhere: hair ties littering the counter, a stained mug with a toothbrush and razor in it, a spiky brush full of snarled blond hair. All further evidence that Ed was real.

Roy washed up and headed downstairs. He heard oil spit in the kitchen and entered to find Ed at the stove with his back to him, frying eggs and wearing a big shirt tucked into sweats, his hair unbrushed and hastily braided. Roy came up behind him and folded his arms around his middle. He was just too tall for Roy to put his chin on his head and he was sure that Ed would notice and be thrilled.

“Good morning,” Ed said, drawn out and audibly delighted. He put his spatula down, turned around in Roy’s arms and kissed him. Lightning shot down Roy’s spine; it was real and true and easy as that, not a fever dream or a drunken nightmare. Ed was making breakfast, it was late morning and he was allowed kiss him. “I thought I'd let you sleep. You're always sleeping.”

Ed spoke with his face still tipped up to Roy’s, just a whisper apart. He kissed him again and it was toothy with a smile. He waited for the vertigo-kick of being yanked back into the waking world from a dream and it never came.

“Thank you,” he said. “Kind of you.”

“Well, you know me.” Ed kissed him, pushing up on his toes. “Always extremely thoughtful and polite.”

“Those aren't in the first twenty words I’d use to describe you,” he said. Ed bit his lip and he laughed and let him go. “Alright, they're in the top ten.”

“Not top five?”

Roy sat at the table in front of a pot of coffee steaming away under a cosy.

“I have to make room for both words of the phrase _insufferable prick_ , so no.”

Ed blew a raspberry and went back to his eggs. He poked them with the spatula and whistled to himself and it was awkward only in the way that all new relationships were awkward, that giddy string of tension always twanging electric between them. Roy poured himself coffee and looked at the frost out the patio doors, looked at Ed, checked under the table for Wan, looked back at Ed. Part of Roy, during his years of manic secrecy, worried that he didn’t actually like men. He worried he was lying to himself and was just sexually frustrated and going through a midlife crisis, and that when it came down to it, he’d have no desire to be with a man. Maybe sexually, he thought, but not romantically, not emotionally, which meant that all his problems were something he’d invented because he hated himself. But then, in Ed’s kitchen, watching him make breakfast, enamoured with the shape of his shoulders under his thin shirt, all of that went away. Everything made sense.

Ed swore to himself as he tried to flip the eggs and one stuck. As he kept gingerly picking at it, he said, “So at dinner, you were lying about having boyfriends.”

Roy grimaced and set his mug down.

“I find it hard to believe that I gave you such an awful handjob that you could tell.”

“Not _that_. I assume in all that stuttering before I blew you, you were trying to say you'd never had sex with a man. And you don't strike me as the ‘waiting until marriage’ type.”

“I wish your memory wasn't perfectly airtight.”

“Yeah, well, it is.” Ed turned around, having given up on his mess of an egg. “I don't care, for the record.”

“That I lied to you or that I've never been with a man?”

“I don't care about either. These are as done as they're gonna get, by the way.” He snapped the stove off and hauled the iron pan off the element.

“I can slice bread,” Roy said, rising.

“Thanks.”

They sat a few moments later with bread and butter and eggs and coffee—Roy was charmed that Ed gave himself the ruined egg—and Ed gave him a look like _well, go on_. Roy sighed.

“I couldn't tell you, obviously. That wasn't a conversation I wanted to have before we—before I knew how you felt.”

“But you did tell me.”

“Trust me, you would have figured it out regardless.” Roy took a massive bite of bread before he spoke, as if that would take the edge off. “I was so afraid that any man I pursued would sell me out to the military. I wanted to be in control if and when I decided to come out, so at the very least, it would be on my own terms.”

“Ouch."

“Hindsight 20/20.”

Roy thought about asking something he’d been meaning to ask for years. The answer was less mysterious after the previous night but he burned to ask because he always had, and when it came to Ed, he was nosy.

“Have you?”

Ed didn't seem surprised. “Had a boyfriend? Or have I been with guys?”

“Well, both, now.”

Ed slurped his coffee. “There’s been no one particularly… boyfriendy.” He made a face and stared out the patio doors into some memory Roy couldn't see, at a man who wronged him or wasn't good enough or God only knows what else. “They were all either guys I met in bars while I was travelling or students who were so excited to sleep with a prof that I could’ve pissed in their mouth and they’d thank me.”

“ _Your_ students?”

“God, no, I’m not that stupid. Just students at UNC. I know that still isn’t cool, but it’s more cool than if they’d been in my department or any of my classes. Which I made sure they weren’t.” He pushed egg yolk around his plate with a chunk of bread. “So, we’re talking either big, drunk goons or earnest art students, mostly. Neither of which are my type.”

Roy tried to imagine Ed hooking up with someone at a bar, or with a young, bright-eyed student. Neither surprised him, as someone who knew what it was like to be closeted—which, he supposed, Ed was. He realized then that he wasn't sure how to define that, _closeted_ , and wasn't interested in trying. It had never done him any good.

He glanced up from his plate to find Ed looking more embarrassed than he expected, and realized how deeply he didn't like talking about himself. Maybe he thought not having a boyfriend was a shortcoming, even in the face of Roy’s complete lack of anything.

Roy pushed his empty plate to the side and put his elbows on the table.

“May I ask what your type is, then?”

Ed laughed. He ran his foot up Roy’s calf and any suggestiveness was offset by how he was still eating eggy bread.

He said, “I’m weirdly into fine-boned older men who can beat me at chess.”

Under the table, Roy put his hand on his leg.

“You have excellent taste.”

After they ate, Roy left the dishes in the sink for his future self to deal with and turned around to find Ed standing behind him.

Roy said, “I’ll let you work. I have to stretch my legs and I’m almost out of smokes, but I’ll be back later.”

He touched Ed’s arm and went to move past him for the door, but Ed snagged his sleeve.

“Oh, no you don't.” He pushed up on his toes and kissed him. “My work is messed up, and fuck your smokes. We’re going back to bed.”

Roy raised his eyebrows. “Back to bed… to sleep?”

Ed pulled him by his shirt through the kitchen towards the stairs. “Back to bed like _bed._ I don't care what happens when we’re there.”

He followed Ed to his bedroom and Ed brushed his teeth. Roy lay on the bed and waited for him to come back. Pale morning sun streamed in the giant window and made the bright duvet glow.

“Do I brush my teeth, too?” he called.

“Doesn't matter. I had something stuck in mine.”

Roy stretched his arms out to the side. He took up the whole bed.

“I feel very strange. Not bad, but…”

The faucet shut off and after a moment Ed’s face appeared above him. He said, “Me too. Don't worry about it.” Roy sat up and Ed sat on the bed next to him. He kissed him and the menthol peppermint of his lips made Roy’s tingle. “Last night was really fast. Which is fine, we don't have to do anything, I just want to…see you. You know?”

“I do,” said Roy, because he did. So they crawled back into bed and Ed pulled his shirt off. He struggled between wanting to remain visible and wanting to tuck the duvet up under his chin.

“You too,” he said, and snagged his fingers in Roy’s sweatshirt. Roy hesitated and stared at Ed’s chest. He was goosebumped in the cold.

“I don't look like that.”

“It would be weird if you did. I already know what I look like naked."

Roy sighed. He pulled his sweater over his head and smoothed down his staticky hair. Ed took the sweater from him and put it aside, then leaned in and kissed him, deep and slow. His hands started on Roy’s shoulders and slid down his arms and up his sides. He broke the kiss and bumped his forehead against Roy’s.

“Look at you,” he mumbled, laughing, and Roy’s heart screamed. He ran his fingers up Ed’s chest and stopped near his right shoulder where a dark crescent of scar tissue curved between his chest and arm, across his clavicle and down under his armpit. Roy understood as his fingers traced its shape.

“Is this…”

“My automail,” Ed said, his tone impossible to read. He pulled his hair out of the way so Roy could get a better look. “From the surgery getting it put on. The gate gave the arm back, but it had no business fixing other parts of me. I’ve still got bolts in my clavicle, you can feel ‘em.” He guided Roy’s hand to a spot on the front of his shoulder where he could feel something under the skin, a notch that shouldn’t be there.

 _“Fascinating_ ,” Roy breathed. He traced the jagged slice up over Ed’s shoulder.

“You remember what I said about how it's hard to keep it from people? That… makes it harder.”

“Of course.” Roy gently lay Ed’s hair back over the scar, as if redressing a modest woman. “What do you tell people?”

“Same thing I say about the automail. Blamed the war. It looks old enough and no one pries into the details if it's a war wound.”

“Of course,” Roy said again, still looking down at Ed’s body. “I… I’m sure you've heard this before, but I wouldn't change a thing.” He touched the split-like scar in Ed’s flat abdomen and resolved to save his prying for later. “Not one single thing, Edward.”

Ed laughed gently and Roy was proud of himself.

“You’re biased.”

“I am.”

Their bodies didn't look awful together, Roy thought. If he had to be as many years older than Ed as he was, he would have liked to be taller, stronger and hairier. That was a _look_ , he decided, being the bearded older man. As it was, he felt soft and wrinkled and foolish. Ed kissed him again and a bit of that ebbed away. They lay down next to one another, hands idly tracing the shapes of the other’s body as they spoke.

“You must think I look a hundred years old,” Roy whispered. “You're absolutely radiant.”

Ed laughed. He ran his thumb along Roy’s collarbone.

“You’re gorgeous. Don’t sell yourself short.”

“I’m forty-five. I think _gorgeous_ is pushing it.”

“Don't start doing the whole ‘older guy seeking eternal youth’ thing. It's not a good look.”

“I just…” Roy felt endlessly stupid talking about it. “I would give anything to be the same age as you.”

“You look just as good now as you did before, maybe even better. You’re less… shiny.” Ed brushed Roy’s hair back and smiled with such unabashed fondness that it took his breath away. “Less smarmy. I like that. You’re still hot.”

“I used to run ten kilometres a day and bleach my teeth. I was objectively more attractive. But thank you.”

“Nah, I remember when you were thirty, and I dunno. You were pretty self-important.”

“ _Hey_.”

“And kind of a prick. I like you better now.”

“Wh—”

Ed kissed him with more intent than earlier, pressing his body all along Roy’s.

“I wonder what I could do to make you believe me,” he mumbled against his lips. Roy’s hands wandered down his back and grabbed his ass, dragging him closer.

“Not necessary. But if you insist…”

Ed pushed up on his elbows, framing Roy’s head. “I do.”

They slid out of the rest of their clothes and were naked in front of each other for the first time, their heads bent down to stare.

“God, _look at you_ ,” Roy said again. He knew he sounded foolish and didn’t care.

“You saw me naked yesterday,” Ed said, audibly pleased.

“Not all of you. I couldn't imagine. I couldn't begin to…” He trailed off. Ed laughed.

“You could have tried harder.”

“Did you know that for almost a thousand years, the church forbade the creation of art that depicted a likeness of God? So artists made all these wonky not-quite-right sculptures and paintings of Jesus, so they could claim it wasn't a true likeness.” He ran his hand up Ed’s side. “It's like that.”

Ed snort-laughed and hid his face. “Idiot.”

They touched each other, watching their hands move as if they didn’t belong to them, lying on their sides and curled towards one another, sharing breath, sharing space. All the panic of the previous night was gone and Roy was filled with an unbelievable, dawning wonder as he realized that, if he was lucky, this was something that he could have. Mornings in bed with Ed could fit into his life right next to trips to the grocery store and paying bills, and every time he kissed him, he did so with the confidence that it wouldn’t be their last. When Ed came into his hand, his mouth open against his, his breath shaking in silent ecstasy, it changed him. His brain began to hum at a lower volume.

“I can’t believe we can do this,” Ed said afterwards, his eyes glowing in the mid-morning light. He spoke in a whisper, his face right next to Roy’s. “We can just wake up whenever we want and jerk each other off. Me and you. _You_.”

“Me,” Roy agreed.

“You, Roy. _Roy_.” Ed kissed him, his lips soft and swollen from earlier kisses.

“Do you like saying my name?”

“I love it. It’s short. A little suckerpunch of a name.”

“You realize you never said it before, in the twenty years we’ve known each other.”

“Well, not to your face. It felt weird. I went from calling you Colonel or ‘sir’—”

“Never once have you called me ‘sir.’”

“—to just _Mustang_ ‘cause, I don’t know, it just sounded more… buddy-buddy.”

“Of course.”

“Like we’re just two military guys, Mustang and Elric. Real casual, you know?”

“The linguistic equivalent of a masculine slap on the shoulder.”

“See, you get it.” Ed nestled in against his chest. “I couldn’t have you knowing I was batshit head-over-heels for you. That would have been complicated.”

Roy dug his chin into Ed’s head. “Complicated like paradise, you brat.”

“Hey, you didn’t tell me either, _Mustang_.”

They nodded off wrapped in each other’s arms. Roy woke up with his forearm numb where it lay under Ed’s head and he drifted back to sleep without rolling away. He woke up again when Ed got out of bed, went to the bathroom and came back. He woke up again and Ed’s lips were on his throat.

“Hel- _lo_.”

“Hi.” Ed’s voice was light and sweet and he pressed his entire body against Roy’s. “I know you were sleeping but _one,_ we’ve slept for like ten hours between last night and now, and _two_ , I’m going insane being naked next to you and not being all over you.”

“Fair enough,” Roy mumbled, still groggy from sleep. Ed sucked his neck and he groaned. “If you give me a hickey, so help me God…”

“I won’t.” Ed kissed his way up to Roy’s chin and then his mouth. He pushed his hips forward and Roy felt him gloriously hard against the crux of his thigh. “Not to be hamfisted about it, but I don’t know if I’ve ever wanted to fuck someone this badly.”

Roy battled valiantly against humiliation and elation and felt his face and chest and every other acre of skin Ed could see turn red. He snatched his face in his hands and kissed him in lieu of saying anything dignified. He kissed Ed’s giddy smile, took his thigh between his legs when he rolled on top of him and kissed him until they were both devouring each other and had to stop.

“Not to—” Ed spoke between kisses, “pressure you, or—”

“You’re not.” Now that he was living in the moment he’d always wanted to, his words felt clunky and inadequate. “Do you… when you were with other men, did you—usually—”

“Stop. I know what you mean.” Ed pulled back enough to laugh, silvery, uncharacteristically pretty and not at all mean. He braced his arms on either side of Roy’s head and dipped his face down to all but purr, “I like both. But my teenage self would murder me if I had the chance to bottom for you and I didn’t take it.”

Roy’s brain turned off completely. He felt it like a real, physical switch in his head. It must have shown on his face because Ed dropped his head onto his chest and laughed.

“That was dramatic, sorry. I’ve been waiting my entire life to say something like that to you. This is unreal.”

Roy barely stopped himself from croaking _you're telling ME_. Instead, he summoned every ounce of confidence he had left in him, everything that ran contradictory to his primary impulse to lie down and take what he was given, and he grabbed Ed’s ass, dragged him against him and said, “I can do that.”

Ed’s eyes snapped to his, instantly more charged than their sweet, sleepy morning. “Yeah?”

Roy answered with a searing kiss that Ed sunk into, already moving against him with intent. Roy rolled them over, buried his hands in Ed’s hair and kissed him until neither of them could breathe.

“There’s—stuff in the nightstand,” Ed gasped.

Roy was clumsy in his eagerness and could only hope that Ed found it endearing. He wrenched the nightstand drawer open and found a bottle of lube, nearly dropped it, slammed the drawer too loudly. He didn't tell Ed that he didn't know what he was doing, he trusted himself, and he trusted that Ed already knew.

“Finger me first,” Ed said against his lips, laughing at himself. “I’m rusty.”

Roy’s hands shook as he slicked up his fingers. Ed shuffled the pillows around until he was lying back on them like a king reclining in throne, clearly enjoying the attention.

“Do you do this to yourself?” Roy asked, wondering at how empty the bottle of lube was.

“Sometimes,” Ed said lightly. He stroked Roy’s leg with his metal foot with a methodicalness that made Roy wonder if he knew he was doing it. “Do you?”

Roy thought back to a few depressing nights he spent at home, drunk after coming home from the bar, where he fucked himself on his fingers to see what it was like, whether it was really what he wanted. Each time he came sobbing into his pillow and felt more desperate and alone than when he started.

He nudged one of Ed’s knees to the side and said, “A bit. But I like this better.”

Ed dragged him in and kissed him like he’d die if he didn’t, stopping only to suck in a shuddery breath as Roy eased his fingers inside him. His spine arched, his lips trembled, his heels found purchase in the sheets and Roy catalogued his sounds and movements and filed them away for future use; what made his fingers dig into his arms, what made him whine and gasp and bear down on him. His languid, almost cocky movements from earlier were subsumed in a panicky pleasure and Roy was endlessly proud of himself.

“That’s good,” Ed said against his mouth, “I’m fine, I’m good, _please_ —”

Roy kissed him and twisted his fingers and felt him writhe under him, and some tiny bit of his youthful confidence returned. Ed’s hand slapped around in the sheets for lube and stroked it on Roy’s dick, still attached to him at the mouth. Roy lined up and paused, his heart racing, his head pounding, and sat up to look at Ed. His hair was tangled under him and his cheeks were flushed and his golden eyes were gleaming and Roy thought of Adonis, Ganymede, Aphrodite, creatures so beautiful that history preserved their names for millennia.

Ed laughed a little, almost nervous, and there was nothing Roy could say, too anxious, excited, dumbstruck, deeply and passionately in love. He leaned down and kissed Ed’s cheek, tacky with sweat, and slowly, slowly eased inside him. Ed’s back arched, his breath choked and his heels slid up Roy’s back.

“Oh my God,” he whispered. He tipped his head back and Roy’s lips found his jaw. “Oh my _fucking_ —”

His words dissolved into babbling nothingness as Roy began to move, cautious but not shy. He buried his hands in Ed’s hair and his shoulders shuddered, his body remembering the motions that had at one time been so familiar to him. He’d never had anyone like Ed under him and after spending the better part of a decade wondering what it would be like to be with him, it was unthinkable that it was finally happening. He didn’t realize how much his imagination failed him until it was real; he couldn’t have conjured up his loud, unabashed cries or the way his body moved with his own and drew him in, how his hands would grab at his arms and hips to pull him closer, as if there were any amount of closeness left to be pulled into. Roy worried he would be too out of practice to be good and every sound Ed made told him his fears were unfounded.

He pushed so deep inside him that it made him dizzy with pleasure, Ed’s fingers digging into his back the best kind of pain.

“You feel…” He pressed his lips to Ed’s temple and tried to pluck a word from the fog of his mind. “ _Glorious_.”

Ed laughed hoarsely and trailed his hands up into Roy’s hair.

“You feel like heaven,” he whispered back.

Roy pulled out so he could shower Ed’s face and throat with kisses and when he pushed back in Ed all but shouted. He clung to him as he moved and Roy had no idea how long it had been, vaguely considered moving into a different position and discarded the thought in favour of having Ed’s legs stay wrapped around his hips; his automail was warm, like the hood of a car. Sweat pricked at the back of his neck and Ed kissed him, kept kissing him, making all these unbearable sounds. Roy slowed down and Ed gasped.

“Don't stop, I’m close.”

“So am I,” Roy warned. Ed kicked him in the butt.

“So?”

In retrospect, Roy found it funny that he expected anything else. When he started to move again Ed was louder and pushier and Roy couldn’t think or speak or else he didn't want to, instead focusing every bit of his attention on making him come. Ed’s dick dripped between them and he would touch himself and then stop and Roy was losing his mind.

“Is this alright?” he asked, a lifetime of inexperience making him fish for a compliment that Ed’s arching back and trembling thighs answered with every stroke inside him.

“Don't stop,” Ed stuttered, clutching Roy's face in both hands. “My—my whole _life_ , Roy, I _can't_ —”

“You what?” Roy panted. Ed sobbed in pleasure, ragged like someone not thinking about the way they sound. He buried his face in Roy’s shoulder.

“I wanted you to come inside me.”

Roy’s heart stopped and started and he was born again as someone more benevolent, kinder, smarter, more thoughtful and better-looking. He grew wings and left his old life behind to enter one where he'd heard those silly, lust-filled words drip from Ed’s lips like honey, a life where Ed, guarded and caustic at the best of times, trusted him enough to say them.

Ed started to come and dug his hands into Roy’s hair, crushed his waist between his thighs, and the sensation was so unbelievable that Roy followed him, the air wrung out of his lungs, his shoulders shuddering, his mind blank and unthinking, endless, overwhelming, perfect. He would have spent the rest of his life in that moment if he could: late afternoon, pale winter sun creeping in the bedroom window and Ed wrapped around him, body and soul.

Time was cruel and marched on. Ed’s hands, buried in his hair, let go. His body relaxed back to the bed and he looked up at Roy, glowing with sweat, all lax and loopy and sated. He trailed fingers down the side of Roy’s face and brushed through his silvered hair.

“Thank you,” he whispered, and Roy didn’t know what to do with the way he was looking at him. He kissed him and it was slow, gentle and long. Unbearably heartfelt. He pulled out and lay down next to him and they stayed curled around each other, catching their breath, staring at one another like the world would collapse if they didn’t.

Ed whispered, “We have surprisingly good chemistry for two people who’ve known each other for twenty years.”

“We’re working out a decade of sexual tension. I think that’ll last us a while.”

Ed chuckled and brushed his fingers against Roy’s chest and watched them move, absent-minded and giddy. He said, “I can’t believe we waited so long.”

It hurt too much to think about. Roy closed his eyes and after a moment felt Ed kiss his cheek, then his temple, then below his ear. He breathed in the human smell of his skin, sweat and unwashed hair, and he’d never been one to cry after sex, but he wanted to then and he couldn’t say why.

He opened his eyes. Ed offered him a tired, happy smile. Roy stroked his thumb against his back, his arm thrown over his side.

He said, “I worried that we would both be married before long and we’d miss our chance to have this.”

Ed’s face fell a bit. “Me too.”

“I thought I’d see you with someone else and have to grapple with being so happy for you and so deeply depressed at the same time.”

“Roy—”

“And then time went on and I worried that you would be the _only_ one of us who would be married, and that any happiness I had for you would be soured by my loneliness.” He paused. “I realize this could still happen, but I’ll feel better knowing we had our chance, now. And I _would_ be happy for you, I hope you know that.”

“I—how come you never said anything?” Ed looked sadder than Roy expected him to and there was an exasperation to his tone. “I’ve been more or less single for like five years, you could've—”

“No, I couldn't. It's… Edward, it's _you_.”

“I don't know what that means.”

“I might as well have jumped into the ocean and chased after a mermaid for all the good it would do me.”

“I’m… a fish?”

“I was going for _mythical_ , but sure, whatever you'd like.”

“You better take me down on off that stupid pedestal or I’m gonna hurt myself. _Mythical_ ,” Ed snorted derisively. He rolled over onto his back and glared at the ceiling, red-faced. Roy kept his arm lying protectively across his middle. “I’m nothing special. I don't do anything _you_ don't do. I’m an alright guy trying to be good. I look okay. I’m obsessed with you.” He turned his head to look at Roy, smiling faintly. “Nothing mythical about any of that.”

Roy’s heart wrenched like Ed had grabbed it in his fist. “You are _not_ obsessed with me.”

“What do _you_ know? You're so obsessed with _me_ that you just called me a mermaid. I don't think either of us can be objective.”

Roy kissed him. He leaned in too quickly and Ed’s teeth caught his lip and he laughed. Ed slapped both hands on his cheeks and held him in close, kissed him until they were both languid and slow.

“I didn't think you'd be so goofy,” Ed whispered, his eyes gleaming. “You're always pretty funny, but I didn't think you'd be so _weird_.”

“I think it's you. There’s something about you, I just—I start talking and I can't stop. Like if there's even a chance that I could make you laugh, I have to go for it.”

Ed laughed brightly and the sound of it filled the room.

“You know,” he said, running his hands down Roy’s chest, “I think they have a word for that feeling.”

Roy had thought about loving Ed enough that it made more sense to voice it than to not, but something in him froze up. Obsession was one thing, romance was another and _love_ , specifically, was something else. He didn't know whether Ed was being playful or serious. Love was a pressure he would put on their fragile new relationship, something he wasn't sure he could live up to. He wasn't sure he'd ever been in love. Sweet, silly, painfully heartfelt words were on the tip of his tongue anyways, even though he knew Ed would laugh at him. Maybe _because_ he would.

“Oh, check it out.” Ed rolled over to look out the window. “It’s snowing.”

Thick flakes fell against the bedroom window, nearly invisible against the white sky. Ed twisted around to watch and Roy watched him instead; his body had long left the confines of boyish charm, but with the curve of his spine and the bright white sheets against his naked skin, he could have been an oil painting, a study in warmth and shadow.

“Beautiful,” Roy breathed.

Ed put his chin in his hand, still looking out the window. “God, I love winter.”

 

—

 

Roy crept out of bed the next morning at the crack of dawn, pulled on a pair of Ed’s sweats and went for a run. It was freezing cold and his lungs burned, his face ached and his eyes streamed. Ed was sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee when he returned and he fixed him with a bemused smile.

“You were running?”

Roy was doubled over in the kitchen doorway, breathing hard.

He panted, “You—make me feel—powerful.” Ed laughed.

“Are those my sweatpants?”

“Yes.”

“You’re amazing.” Ed got a mug from the dish rack and poured Roy coffee. Roy straightened up and leaned on the doorframe.

“Did I wake you when I left?”

“A little bit, but it’s okay.”

“How long was I gone, then? If you remember.”

Ed glanced at the clock. “Twenty minutes?”

“Oh my God, that’s pathetic,” Roy wheezed. He sat heavily in one of the kitchen chairs and Ed brought him his coffee and kissed him on the head as he set it down.

“We can work on it.”

 

—

 

After that, it was the same but different. Ed would work and Roy would go for walks and read books, but more often than not, Roy would lie on the floor next to Ed while he wrote and took notes, holding his free hand, and Ed would take a break to amble aimlessly through the snow with Roy when he went out. They had more sex than Roy had in the past five years combined; Ed was insatiable and Roy was beyond flattered and he took him bent over the kitchen table, on the couch, on the floor amidst his towers of file folders. They would run together in the mornings and spent the nights tangled in each other. Roy moved his things into Ed’s room bit by bit, and by the end of the week, he had nothing in his room at all. He’d been in love secretly for years and settling into the role in a more professional capacity was the most natural thing he'd ever done. It felt like a fever dream and with every passing day he thought more about how he would inevitably have to wake up from it.

 

—

 

Ed spent less time on his work and they spent more time in bed, outside, lying on the living room floor. They talked quietly and learned each other’s bodies, lounging like a couple on vacation, and Ed didn’t talk about his research at all. Roy was too happy to mention it. One morning, he woke to a loud crash, an empty bed and the longest, most multisyllabic exclamation of “fuck” he’d ever heard. He pulled on underwear and thundered downstairs to find Ed lying spread eagle on a mess of papers and file folders. An open folder lay over his face, hiding him from view.

Roy crouched down next to him. “What’s the matter, my love?”

Ed had calmed down immensely as he aged, but was still capable of throwing a good old-fashioned Elric temper tantrum. He snatched the folder off his face and his skin was mottled pink with anger or indignation or something else Roy couldn’t name.

“I think my experiments failed,” he said.

“How? You said it was all done months ago.”

“I thought it was, but I keep looking at everything and—” He sat up, nearly knocking Roy’s head with his own, and started rooting around in the files that sat like snowdrifts around him. “We were having issues with the proteins right at the end a few weeks before I left, but I thought it was fine—it wasn’t expressing properly and it _looked_ like we got it to work, but it might just be a problem with the DNA. In which case we gotta go back and do all of it all over again.”

“Oh.”

“But the protein _did_ express, it’s not like I fucking read it wrong or something, we spent so, so much time on it. But these…” He picked up a plasticky sheet with shapes on it. Roy couldn’t make sense of it. “It doesn’t add up. I don’t know. I’ve been looking at it for days and I didn’t want to admit it, but… these aren’t what I need.”

Roy put his hand on his back. Ed flipped the sheet away, put his head in his hands and groaned.

“I could have gotten to this part weeks ago and saved myself… well, weeks. I’m an idiot.”

“You’re not.”

“No, but it definitely could’ve been avoided. I sort of rushed out of there, I should’ve checked. Double-checked. Triple-checked. We spent months and months on these stupid experiments ‘cause it wasn’t working and finally there was this gross, soupy bacteria that I thought was messed up, but that’s where we finally got it to work. But I guess we didn’t. I thought…” He shook his head. “Whatever. Christ.”

Roy eased down to sit next to him and dropped his hand to his knee. It was dawning on him what all this meant and he was afraid to speak, so they sat in silence for almost a minute. Ed started to idly gather the paper around him into piles, as if looking for something to do with his hands.

Finally, Roy asked, “You have to go back to Creta, don’t you?”

Ed shoved a handful of papers into a folder they clearly didn’t belong in, his head bent down. “Yeah.”

They didn’t speak for another minute. Roy helped him gather up the papers. When they had a few tall stacks sitting around them like a child’s play-city, Roy sighed and stood. He put a hand out to help Ed up and when they were both standing, he kissed him.

“Let’s go back to bed,” he said softly, and Ed just nodded.

 

—

 

They spent even more time in bed in the following days, attached almost literally at the hip. Their lovemaking was slow, crushing and intense. They lay together, their hearts still racing, legs tangled in the sheets. Roy touched a mark he’d left on Ed’s throat and said, “Sorry,” and Ed shook his head.

“‘S fine.”

There had been a cloud hanging over them all week. Ed hadn’t bought a train ticket yet and hadn’t talked much about when he would. He was in the process of sorting through his notes and lab results and packing what he needed into a ratty suitcase.

He sighed.

“I could just not go,” he said. It was the first time he’d mentioned it in days.

Roy brushed his hair back and lingered with his fingers curled behind his ear.

“This isn’t our life,” he whispered. “We have to go back to reality.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. We’ve both lived in Resembool for years.” Ed bumped their foreheads together. “I’m a librarian and you’re a butcher. We hold a science fiction book club on the first Thursday of every month. Our neighbours are outwardly accepting of our alternative lifestyle, but we know they’re distant for a reason. We’re thinking of moving to a smaller house in the spring.”

“Why am I a butcher?”

Ed kissed him and for a second Roy was a butcher from Resembool who was trying to build a comfortable life for his librarian husband. He opened his eyes and he was a high-ranking, disgraced military officer who lived thousands of miles away from the only man he’d ever loved.

Ed mumbled, “You don’t have to be a butcher. What do you want to be?”

Roy thought about it. “Can I be an accountant?”

“Yes. I’m a librarian and you’re an accountant and we’re the biggest nerds in Resembool. We were never in the military.” Ed scooted closer and fitted his head under Roy’s chin. “You do everyone’s taxes and get them big tax returns, so they love you. You work too hard, but you love what you do.”

“And I’m taking cooking classes at the community centre. You teach an after-school chemistry workshop for kids.”

“We don’t have any kids of our own and we’re worried it’s too late.” Ed cut himself off. “Sorry. I made it sad.”

“It was already sad,” Roy said. He tipped his head down and spoke into Ed’s hair and breathed him in. “I don’t want to pretend. I want to be with you.”

“Then let’s be together.”

“You live in Creta.”

“UCA has been sucking my dick for years and their alchemistry programs are a joke. If I said I wanted to transfer, they’d make a position for me.”

“But you’ve lived in Creta for years. Your life—”

“—has always been extremely mobile. Come on.” He dug his fingers into Roy’s sides. “Let me try.”

Roy flashed back to every night he spent bitter and lonely wishing he could be exactly where he was at that moment: Ed tucked against his chest, whispering to him about the future.

Because Roy was himself, he said, “I’m not always like this. I’m stressed and mean and I’ll snap at you and I’ll work late, and I can’t promise that I’ll be much help around the house, and—”

“Roy. I’ve met you. I know.” Ed kissed his throat. “This is a dream, but real life isn’t bad either. It's worth trying out.”

Roy fell silent. Ed shifted around so he could snuggle his face into Roy’s chest and then stayed there. He breathed deep and slow and let Roy run his fingers through his hair over and over again.

“You’re thinking about something,” Ed said finally, muffled by his shirt. “I can feel you being tense. Spit it out.”

Roy’s fingers stalled in Ed’s hair. He told himself he wasn’t scared and he believed it. It seemed ridiculous to be scared then, lying in a big, warm bed on a winter evening, wrapped in his lover.

He said, “I’ll stop at nothing to be with you.”

Ed shifted slightly. “Yeah?”

“Yes. I mean it. Whatever it is—whatever we have to do—I’ll do it. I’ll move to Creta, Xing, _here_ , I don’t care, I...” He swallowed. “Nothing will mean anything if you’re not there with me. I—I know that sounds ridiculous and you said I’m fragile right now, and maybe I’m just being emotional, I don’t know, but the thought of leaving you for good, I just can’t—I can’t go back to dinner and drinks with you every six months, Edward. I won’t. You can try to talk me out of it and I’ll respect that, I respect _you_ , but God, I would do whatever I could to change your mind.”

Ed sat back to look up at Roy and his eyes sparkled. His lips were parted, awestruck, and he looked at Roy like he’d never seen him before. “It’s only been a couple weeks. That’s a scary decision to make after a couple weeks with someone.”

Roy brushed his hair back and held his face in his palm.

“I’ve loved you for ten years,” he said. “It doesn’t seem so scary after that.”

Ed kissed him and Roy instantly knew it was a kiss he’d remember for the rest of his life: the way Ed sunk into him, the softness, the depth, the way it was a loud and obvious proclamation of love. It dissolved into something messy in Ed’s giddiness, teeth and frantic hands.

“We’ll make it work,” Ed mumbled, laughing. “I love you so much, you stupid bastard. We’ll make it work.”

 

—

 

With Ed’s impending return to Creta, Roy was forced to think about his own future. They started walking more often than they slept, linked arm in arm where no one could see.

“I won't go back to entry-level desk work. I won't.”

“No one asked you to! You've got twenty years of experience in policy and diplomacy and shit, you’re not gonna be demoted, it'll just be… different.”

Roy sucked on his cigarette and frowned. “I know Führer is an empty role, but it's still… Führer.”

“Then do that, if you want. If they let you.”

“I _don’t_ want that. I want to affect real change, and I can’t—”

“—and you can’t do that in the military. I know.” Ed thunked his head against Roy’s shoulder as they walked, passing under a stand of trees heavy with snow. “You want to be prime minister, right? Ideally?”

“I think it’s too late for that.”

“Aw, bullshit, how old is Hudson? He’s gotta be like, fifty plus.”

“He’s forty.”

“Are you serious? Christ, that guy has aged like a sack of bricks. Well, whatever, that’s really young for a PM. Too young. You’ve got time.”

Roy sighed. It was the middle of the day and the glare of the sun off the glittering snow blinded him. He kept his eyes down.

“I promised you I’d make this country a democracy, but this country beat me to it. I’m proud, but I’m—I’m not involved at all. I’m useless.”

Ed squeezed his arm.

“You're not. Get involved again! Democracy isn't an endpoint. You love this horrible, backwards place more than anyone I've ever met, and that's a valuable resource. And an irreplaceable one! You can’t train someone to _care._ Job experience doesn’t make you care.”

“I guess not.”

“You’ve got tons of stuff about you that you can’t find in most people. The way you speak… you make ordinary people think they can move mountains. You make them _want_ to. I don’t know if it’s the stuff you say or how you say it, but man, you really inspire people. You inspire _me._ ” Ed laughed. “I don’t know if I’ve ever told you that.”

“You haven’t.”

“I should have. I mean it. You have a real talent, don’t sell yourself short. You didn’t get to where you are today on dumb luck, I can promise you that.”

Roy turned and kissed Ed’s head. “Thank you, my love.”

“I mean it.” Ed squeezed his arm again. “Plus I saw in the paper the other day that Hudson’s piece of shit Minister of Foreign Affairs got caught saying a bunch of off-colour stuff about Xing again. Maybe you can snag his job.”

Roy wasn’t sure if he was kidding but the comment stunned him into thoughtful silence anyways.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tw](http://www.twitter.com/cleenteath) / [tu](http://ronibravo.tumblr.com)


	5. distance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed threaded his fingers in Roy’s silvered hair and said, “If we get any happier, we’ll rot here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> immense thanks to everyone for the very kind comments. writing this story helped me get out of the same funk roy was in. i hope this last chapter does it for ya. it's very, very long

That night, Roy leaned in the bathroom doorway while Ed brushed his teeth.

“Izumi and Sig are coming to visit,” Ed said through a foam of toothpaste. “Just a heads up.”

“You get a lot of visitors.”

“What, Al and then these two? That’s three. Resembool is closer to most things than anywhere in Creta.” Ed spat into the sink. “They’re my mentor and her husband, by the way. Thanks for taking an interest in my life.”

“I know who they are, you brat. You’ve mentioned them before.” Roy wandered into the bedroom and lied down staring up at the ceiling. “Did you tell them I’m here?”

Ed didn’t say anything. The faucet ran and after a moment he appeared in the bedroom and climbed into bed.

“No, it didn’t come up. And it would be awkward.”

“As awkward as them getting here and seeing that your ‘friend’ is also visiting?”

“I’ll be obvious about it when they’re here,” Ed said. “I’m not a kid. I’m not _ashamed_.”

“Do they know you like men?”

“That also never came up. What do you think I talk to these people about? I dated Win for like, my whole life, and it’s not like I brought any guys on wholesome family tours through the countryside.”

“Alright, alright. I get it.” Roy reached out for him. “ _Would_ you bring a man on a wholesome family tour through the countryside?”

“What do you think _this_ is?” Ed said. Roy’s heart flipped over.

“Duly noted.”  
  


—  
  


Roy spent the next two days before their arrival preparing the house, making it look lived-in and comfortable, but not the mess that him and Ed had gotten used to. It started to snow in the afternoon and Ed sat at the kitchen table watching it fall, wearing slacks and one of Roy’s cable-knit sweaters. He got up to get his glasses, then came back. Wan laid sleeping in his lap and he stroked his back over and over again. Roy stopped in to make a snack and Ed mumbled, “They’d better make it.”

Roy said, “Based on what I know about Izumi, I don’t think she’d let a little snow stop her.”

It didn’t. Before sunset, her and Sig appeared over one of the rolling hills dragging a battered steamer trunk, trudging through the snow that hid the dirt road from view.

“They’re here!” Ed called. Roy snapped his book shut and joined him at the front door. Izumi and Sig threw their hoods back when they were under the safety of the porch overhang and Ed opened the door.

“You made it!”

Izumi dropped the trunk and it shook the house.

“Hiya, poindexter,” she said warmly, pulling Ed into a hug. Sig leaned in and slapped Ed on the back and ruffled his hair. “You're lookin’ good.”

“You've grown,” Sig said, his eyes twinkling.

“It's weird how that gets funnier each and every time you say it.” Ed stepped into the house and swept his arm out. “Come in, unless you'd rather stand out in the cold and razz me all night.”

“Tempting,” Izumi said, following him in.

Roy hovered awkwardly in the entryway. Izumi’s dark hair was twisted back in a clip and her age was impossible to determine; her face was lined and speckled with age but her shoulders were wide and strong and her eyes were bright. Sig was wider than the doorway and, with his silver beard and hair, he reminded Roy of Santa Claus.

Ed smiled at Roy and didn't look the least bit nervous, which helped. Izumi and Sig took off their jackets before they noticed him.

“Hel-lo,” Izumi said slowly. “Didn't see you there.”

“This is Roy.” Ed gestured unnecessarily at Roy. Roy felt his other hand slide against his lower back, in clear view of the two of them. Both their gazes dropped to watch the movement.

“Oh,” Izumi said. “Well, damn.”

Roy had no idea what to make of that, but Ed didn't seem fazed.

He said, “Roy,” and pointed at each of their guests in turn. “Izumi, Sig.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Roy said. He shook Izumi’s hand and then Sig’s and they both crushed his fingers.

Ed waved his hands at them and said, “C’mon, sit down. Thanks for coming.”

Izumi snorted. “You must be nervous if you're being so polite, pipsqueak. This is weird and new.”

“Well, excuse me,” Ed drawled. “I take it back.” He made his way to the living room and Roy wandered after him. Ed sat at one end of the couch and Sig sat in the armchair, which left the only remaining seat next to Ed. Roy and Izumi stood in the centre of the room, looking at it and then at each other. Wan padded into the room and his nails clicked on the floor in the silence.

“Please, go ahead,” Roy said. Izumi scoffed.

“Oh, come on. As if.”

She perched on the arm of the armchair, leaning against Sig’s side, her arm around his shoulders. Roy stood there awkwardly for a few more moments before taking his seat next to Ed. Izumi had to be about Roy’s own age or a little older, but something about her made him feel like a scared little boy. She was the type of woman he would have ruined his life over in his twenties.

Ed said, “It's good to see you guys. You're on your way through to Xing, you said? What's up with that?”

Izumi laughed brightly. “It's cute that you think you can just breeze on by this bombshell, kid.” She looked at Roy. “So, how long’s this been going on?”

“Not… long,” Roy answered.

“How'd you meet?”

He briefly met Ed’s gaze. “We used to work together.”

“At the university?”

“Before then.”

Izumi squinted at him. “Tell me you’re not why he wasted his childhood being a dog of the military.”

Ed’s hackles went up. “I didn’t waste anything being anything, and no!”

“Were you his commanding officer?”

Roy shifted uncomfortably. “For a time.”

“When he was fifteen?”

“I don’t like this conversation,” Ed said. “I’m an adult. He’s an adult. I haven’t been in the military for like ten years. Longer than that, even. Can we talk about how great it is that I have a PhD?”

“No,” Izumi said flatly. “Be a dear and go make us some tea.”

Ed eyed Roy nervously. “Sure. In a bit.”

“Now, Ed.”

Ed looked at Sig for help. Sig shrugged and said, “It’ll be fine.”

Ed stood and crept carefully to the kitchen. Roy hid his sweating hands in his pockets and couldn’t bring himself to break away from Izumi’s gaze. Her free hand idly stroked Sig’s nape as she spoke.

“Your surname is Mustang, isn’t it?”

“It is.”

“Field Marshal Roy Mustang. The Führer’s right-hand man. Next up to bat yourself.”

“Yes,” Roy said, feeling like he was being interviewed. “Possibly.”

From the kitchen, Ed yelled, _“I hope you’re all being good!”_ None of them acknowledged him.

“And you’re also Ed’s…” Izumi hesitated, eyeing Roy with as much skepticism as he deserved. “... partner.”

Roy knew that if he’d been twenty years younger, she would have said _boyfriend_.

He told her, “Yes,” because there would be too much to unpack if he were to say _no_ or if he told the truth, which was: _I’m trying to be._

Izumi said, “I read in the paper last month about how you're fucking your secretary. You _his_ partner, too?”

“No, I’m not,” Roy snapped, “and with all due respect, that's none of your business.”

Izumi ignored him. “It’s pretty dangerous to be an openly gay man in the military. Doesn’t the thought of bringing Ed into that situation bother you?”

“Immensely, but he’s impossible to argue with and I wouldn’t disrespect him by taking away his choice in the matter.”

Izumi’s eyes softened, if only a fraction. Wan sniffed at her foot and she petted his back with her toes.

“Fair enough. The kid’s got a head like a cinder block, I’ll give you that.” She dropped her hand to Sig’s shoulder. “I remember you, you know. You were there in that horrible place, on that horrible day. You opened the gate with us.”

Roy nodded seriously. “Right. It… it seems like such a blur, now.”

“It's alright if you don't remember me—I don't think you ever saw my face. You're not blind anymore, eh?”

“No, thankfully. That was just a short time.”

“How nice for you.” She smiled wryly. “Not all of us were so lucky with our toll.”

Before Roy could say anything, Ed said, “You be nice to him, you old hag.” He trotted back into the room holding two cups of tea in his right hand and two in his left, which he set carefully on the coffee table. “He gave Al and I every lead he had on the stone and he saved my life more times than I can count. He saved this _country_. He's a good man. Cut him some slack.”

Izumi cackled. “Watch who you're calling an old hag when you're boning a guy old enough to be your father.”

“He’s forty-five!” Ed hissed, leaning in for a fight. “Do the math! He would have been fifteen when he had me if he were my father and that's _not_ a fatherly age and what do you care, anyways?”

Izumi sat up and half launched herself at Ed. Sig put his hand on her shoulder and she stopped, mid-snarl.

“Stop this, both of you,” he said, his voice flat but booming. “You're acting like children in front of company.” He gestured at Roy, who tried not to visibly sweat.

“It's fine,” he said, “I understand that this is a lot to get used to and you've all known each other for a very long time, and I’m—”

Sig held a hand up to signal silence. He rooted around in a bag at his feet and pulled out an unopened bottle of what looked like whiskey and held it out to Izumi.

“You're not teacher and pupil anymore. You don't have to compete. We came here to catch up with an old friend, and we’ve found two old friends. It's wonderful. Let's drink.”

Ed looked tiredly at Izumi. “Alright.”

She said, “Fine.”

Sig said, “I’m going to get four glasses, and when I come back, we are going to talk and drink and have a great time.”

He hauled himself to his feet and lumbered to the kitchen. Izumi slid down into the seat he was in and sighed.

“He’s right. Mustang—sorry for giving you the gears. Anyone who likes this kid enough to put up with him by choice is golden in my books. You must be a saint.”

Ed’s loud, indignant snort drowned out whatever Roy said back.

Sig poured them whiskey and Izumi slid off the couch to sit on a cushion at his feet. They talked about their upcoming trip to Xing—"just to get away from everything," Izumi said without elaborating—and asked Ed about his research, earning a fiery tirade that lasted a whole drink. Roy loved seeing Ed interact with people who weren’t him, which was a novelty after the dream-like isolation of their time in Resembool; it reminded him that Ed was a whole creature who chose to be with him because he wanted to, not because he was some mirage Roy had conjured up, which was how it felt sometimes. He wondered if that was what love was and didn’t think he could ever be sure.

After the four of them shared the entire bottle of whiskey and two bottles of wine Ed had in his pantry, Izumi challenged Ed to arm wrestling and he whipped his glasses off, tied up his hair and cleared off the coffee table to properly challenge her. Roy and Sig sat on the couch cackling at them, nursing their last glasses of wine. Ed and Izumi slammed their elbows down, slapped their palms together and started to wrestle. Roy couldn’t stop laughing. He snatched Ed’s glasses off the floor before they could be crushed by a wayward knee. He looked at them in his hands—the thin wire frame, near-round lenses, a slight bend in the bridge—and realized how much he associated them with the Edward he had come to know in Resembool and nowhere else. He hoped this wouldn’t be the last time he knew that specific Edward.

“You love him?” Sig asked, his rumbling voice startling Roy out of his thoughts. He sighed and watched as Izumi wrestled Ed’s shaking fist to within an inch of the table, and then Ed brought it back.

Roy said, “I would light myself on fire if I thought it would bring him even one second of happiness.”

Sig clapped his hand down on his shoulder and squeezed.

“He has that effect on people.”

Roy’s heart was more full than he knew what to do with. Izumi slammed Ed’s hand down and shot up hooting and hollering. Ed rolled onto his back and howled in anguish with his hands over his face.

“That he does,” Roy said.

When it was more early than late, Izumi struggled to her feet and said, “We oughta head out.”

Ed was lying on the couch with his head in Roy’s lap and Wan stretched out on his stomach, and ran his fingers around the rim of a wine glass on the floor. “Stay in the spare room, you crazy old bat.”

Izumi pulled her arm across her body until her shoulder popped. “Nah, we'll get a room in the village. I'd rather not spend the night listening to you two make slow, sad love to each other.”

Ed went beet red. “We d—we wouldn't—shut up!”

Everyone but Ed laughed. Roy put his hand on Ed’s head.

“She’s got us there, my love.”

Ed slapped his hand away.

Izumi and Sig bundled up and gave Ed (and to a lesser but still sweet extent, Roy) long, heartfelt hugs, and then left, dragging their trunk behind them back into town. Ed and Roy trudged tiredly upstairs and flopped face first into bed.

Izumi had talked at length about the past, some fun memories but mostly old, sad ones, of the Promised Day and everything that went along with it. Roy didn’t blame her—very rarely did you get three people in the same room who had experienced what they had—but it left his mind churning and stuck twenty years in the past; he was thirty and Ed was a teenager and the amount of time between then and the present seemed like an impossibly large chasm.

“That was fun,” Ed mumbled, his face smushed into the bed. Roy reached out and stroked his hair back.

“It was. Thank you.”

“They like you. Izumi caught me in the kitchen and called you… I forget what she said, exactly, but something in the vein of _a real snack_.”

Roy laughed. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not.”

Ed’s drunk, sleepy smile was warm and golden and his hair was a mess and Roy loved him. Having his current love of Ed sit alongside very strong memories of the time before he loved him was uncomfortable, not strictly bad but a lot to think about. He could clearly see Ed as he used to be, barely chest-high on him, haunted eyes, shorter hair and a try-hard smile. He saw his own jet black hair, omnipresent swagger and equally haunted eyes. He was lost in how far they’d both come.

“Did you wonder what I would be like?” he asked softly.

“Hm?”

“When you were young. You said you thought about being with me for so long, you must have had some ideas in that tangled brain of yours.”

Ed laughed and rolled over, clasping his hands behind his head.

“Yeah, I guess I did. I dunno, I was a weird kid. I guess I thought you’d be really…” He waggled his elbows while he searched for a word. “Aggressive. I’d seen you do some pretty fucked up shit.”

“Aggressive.”

“Yeah. Throwing me around, pulling my hair and stuff.”

“Did you _want_ that?”

He laughed again. “I guess so. I—well, you know what my childhood was like. Not surprising that I got some crossed wires, right?”

Ed didn’t seem to think much of it but Roy drowned in that information.

He asked, “Is that still something you want?”

Ed smiled at him. “Does it matter?”

It did matter, Roy wanted to tell him. He wondered if Ed didn’t trust him with that information until then, whether he was just drunk and talking loose or exaggerating.

“Sit up,” he said, and Ed, visibly bewildered, did as he was told and hauled himself to sit cross-legged. Without saying anything, Roy scooted closer. He slid his fingers up his braid, grabbed it at the base and slowly pulled until his head tipped back, then ran his open mouth up the column of his throat, his teeth grazing. He felt Ed’s breath shake.

“Like this?” he whispered.

It took Ed a second to swallow before he said, “Yeah.”

Roy tugged his hair a little harder and sucked under his jaw, his other hand sliding up under Ed’s sweater towards his throat.

“Roy…” Half warning, half awe.

“I can stop.”

 _“No.”_ Ed’s hand shot out and squeezed his thigh, hard, and he laughed at himself. “Go for it."

He closed his hand around Ed’s throat, not gentle but not too hard, and kissed his jaw, his cheek, his ear. The front of Ed’s slacks lifted as he got hard, gloriously, flatteringly quickly, and Roy was dizzy with need.

Their lovemaking had been searing and passionate but never filthy, no element of play, but then, Roy felt something bloom in his chest. Maybe it was because he was drunk and happy instead of drunk and lonely, because he was finally able to crawl out of his own head even for a moment, or maybe because he was finally where he was always supposed to be, but he stopped worrying. He considered the concept of _fun_ for the first time in months, instead of moving mountains and declarations of love. There was room for both. He felt Ed’s pulse thunder under his fingers and he didn't think about a single thing at all.

He laughed against Ed’s cheek. “I love you.”

He felt Ed’s laugh under his palm. “Me too.”

He undressed him unceremoniously, throwing his pants aside, pulling off each of his socks. He didn't let Ed undress him. He laid between his legs and sucked him off as he worked his fingers inside him, and each time he felt him get close he pulled his mouth off him and watched him arch and curse as he dug his heels into Roy’s back, which hurt more on one side than the other. He did this until Ed was sweating and shaking and dripping against his lips.

“ _Please_ , Roy, Jesus fuck—”

Roy curled his fingers inside him and he jolted like he'd been shocked. He sucked just the head of his dick into his mouth and felt him pulse, then moved off; Ed tried to buck into his mouth and he held him down with his forearm.

“Fuck me,” Ed said to the ceiling. “You’re killing me. What do you want? You want me to call you _sir?_ Is that your thing? I'll do it. I’ll—” He choked as Roy slicked up a third finger and started to ease it inside him.

“Please don't call me _sir_ ,” Roy said against his thigh.

“Take your fucking clothes off, you're killing me.” Ed dug into his back with his foot, as if that would help. He dropped back to the bed and covered his face with his hands as Roy worked his fingers inside him again. “Oh my _fucking_ —” Roy bit the inside of his thigh and he made an indescribable noise. “I hate you. Please, _please,_ I can't—”

“Do you like this?” Roy asked, his voice hushed.

From behind his hands, Ed mumbled, “Unfortunately.”

He sat up from between Ed’s legs and Ed all but sobbed in relief. He turned over and got up on his elbows and knees as Roy shoved his pants down and slicked up his aching cock; the tease went both ways and he could hardly think straight. He bowed over him and pushed inside him with little ceremony, and as he did, Ed shifted his weight to his shoulders and reached a hand back to grab his own dick. Roy slapped his hand away.

“Don’t touch.”

The unbelievable feel of Ed’s body around him knocked the air out of his lungs and it was all he could do to hang his head and try not to come. Ed sobbed and, without being asked, folded one of his arms behind his back and then the other. Roy took his wrists in one hand and held them there.

“Like this?”

Ed buried his face in his pillow and made a noise that Roy could only interpret as overwhelmingly positive. He held his wrists tighter and cinched them up until Ed’s arms were bent back a little too far and that got him another noise. Once he was sure he wouldn’t come he started to fuck him like that, bowed over him and holding his hands behind his back, and if the racket Ed made was any indication, it was working for him. Roy closed his eyes and hammered his hips—Ed’s body was wired and hyper-responsive and he jolted at every touch and wrenched against Roy’s grip and it was _heaven_. Roy drowned in the lube dripping down the insides of Ed’s thighs, his muffled cries and the slap of their skin.

Ed lifted his head from the pillow and said, “Touch me,” his voice ragged. “I’m so close, I can’t—”

Roy buried himself inside him and dragged his teeth down the back of Ed’s shoulder.

“Do you think you can come like this?”

“No,” Ed gasped. “Touch me.”

“I think you can.”

“I’m gonna _die_.”

Roy kissed his shoulder and leaned back. He kept Ed’s arms trapped behind his back and started to go for it, _really_ go, until his thighs were burning and he was endlessly on the edge and trying to hold off. Ed bucked back against him, trying to find that perfect angle that would get him release as his neglected dick dripped like a faucet. His muffled shouts reached a fever pitch of _I can’t I can’t I can’t_ and a babble of colourful curses and he seized up, twisted his wrists in Roy’s grip and came, pushing his hips forward, desperate for friction and finding none, and coming anyways. The thought of that alone pushed Roy over the edge and he let go of Ed’s hands to bow over him and wind trembling fingers in his hair as he rode it out. With his hands free, Ed finally jerked himself off and sobbed into his pillow as he came again or kept coming, Roy wasn't sure which it was and it didn't matter. He was so brain dead with pleasure that he wasn't sure anything had ever mattered.

Ed was trembling, which was new. Roy pulled out and they moved out of the way of the soaked part of the bed. He took off his clothes and lay down next to Ed, pressing the length of their burning bodies together, burying his face in the crook of his neck. Ed pulled his hair free from its ruined braid and they stayed there for a few moments, catching their breath, the last shudders of shock and pleasure and adrenaline leaving their bodies. Roy tipped his face up and they kissed, slow and deep, gentle, wet. Ed moved back enough to look at him, laughed and shook his head. His voice was still wobbly.

“Roy fucking Mustang.” He reached out and smoothed Roy’s silvered hair back. “I didn’t know you had it in you.”

Roy turned his head and kissed Ed’s wrist. It was the wrist of Ed’s right arm and he kept his lips there, his eyes closed, and thought as he always did about the unimaginable boundaries of space and time that arm had crossed and how much he loved the man it returned to.

He said, “It's nice to know I can still surprise myself.”  
  


—  
  


The next morning, Ed went to the train station and bought a ticket back to Creta and tickets for Roy’s portion of the trip back to Central. He slapped them all down on the kitchen table along with a pack of cigarettes while Roy was nursing his pounding headache over a cup of putrid black coffee.

Neither of them spoke for a few long seconds, and then Ed said, “If we get any happier, we’ll rot here.”

Roy looked at the dates on the tickets. They had two more days together. He looked up at Ed.

“Why the smokes?”

“I wanted to get you something to cheer you up, but the station didn't have anything else you liked.”

Roy slid the pack from the stack of tickets and passed it from one hand to another, its cellophane wrap and near-weightlessness so familiar to his touch. It was his brand and the intimacy of that stung, and for the first time since he could remember, he had no desire to smoke.  
  


—  
  


Roy moved slowly around the house, rediscovering the things that he’d scattered through the rooms in his months there; his watch, which he hadn’t worn in weeks, his sweaters and gloves and scarves, the books he brought that were his own. Ed stuffed his stacks of research notes into a trunk and packed another with his belongings. The train tickets stayed on the kitchen table and every time they ate a meal, they were there looking at them.

On their last night, they sat in the lamp-lit living room nursing glasses of wine, doing nothing but absorbing each other’s presence and hardly speaking. After all their time spent together, there was surprisingly little to say. They would both go home. They would talk on the phone. They would try to make it work. There was nothing they hadn’t already said.

Wan sat with them on the couch. Roy scratched his head and he gave a snuffling whine.

“What happens to this little guy?” he asked.

“He lives with one of the neighbours when one of us isn’t around. They’ve got a bunch of dogs.”

“That’s nice.”

They were both petting Wan and their hands touched. It still felt clandestine and electric to be around Ed sometimes, which Roy thought would have gone away by that point.

“I’ll miss you,” he said quietly. Nothing new. “I’ll miss you so much I don’t know how I’m going to stand it.”

Ed laughed like he was embarrassed. It was charming. His laid his fingers over Roy’s.

“Likewise. This has been…” He trailed off.

Roy said, “I know.”

They were quiet for a few more minutes. Wan hopped off the couch and plodded into the kitchen and Ed closed the extra space between them to curl into Roy’s side. Roy idly stroked the shape of a scar through his thin shirt, over the curve of his shoulder.

“I wish I had the words to tell you how much… hm.” He stopped when Ed snickered. “I don’t know. It’s like… it’s not a matter of love, or not love. It’s like—like breathing.”

“I get that.”

“You’re the Sun. I orbit your light, completely helpless to do otherwise.”

Ed laughed, reached down and put a hand on his thigh. “The lonely planet, Roynus M. A fiery surface and a brittle, icy core.”

“Ouch.”

He tipped his face up and kissed him, soft and slow, and they stayed like that for a few minutes, just kissing, nothing else.

Ed pulled back to breathe and curled his fingers in the hair at Roy’s nape.

“You can't go back there looking like this. All shaggy.”

“I’ll get it cut when I’m home.”

“You could run into Hudson straight off the train, and _then_ how stupid would you feel?”

“I’ll probably be wearing a hat and scarf, I doubt he'd see my hair.”

“Let me cut it,” Ed said, in that gentle, impish voice he used when he wanted to get his way. It would make Roy angrier if he didn't always fall for it. “There are clippers and scissors around here somewhere. I used to do Al’s hair.”

“When you were _five_?”

Ed kissed him in lieu of an answer. They both knew he'd already said yes.

Roy sat on the floor in his underwear with a towel draped over his shoulders. Ed knelt behind him with a pair of hair scissors and ancient clippers he found in the upstairs bathroom.

“You’ve got such great hair,” Ed mumbled as he started to work. “Thick as hell. I’d think you’re hot regardless, but I’m glad you never went bald.”

“Give it time.” Roy sipped his wine. “Sometimes I regret not dyeing it as soon as it started to turn gray. I certainly can’t start now.”

“Don’t, it looks good.” Ed stroked his hair as if to demonstrate. “The gray bits are so bright and shiny. S’nice.”

 _Snip snip_ , a few more locks fell. Roy didn’t know when he’d closed his eyes. “Thank you, Edward.”

“Any time.”

Ed hummed softly as he trimmed Roy’s hair, shortening it at the back where it started to curl at the back, over his ears. He moved around to the front to trim it there and Roy stared into his face, tight with concentration.

Ed’s eyes flicked from his hair to his face and his scissors stilled.

“You’re so handsome,” he whispered. “It’s crazy. Your…” He pressed his thumb to Roy’s lower lip. “I still can’t believe it’s you sometimes.”

Roy leaned in and kissed him. “The feeling’s mutual.”

Ed went back to trimming his hair and the intimacy and quiet and sadness of their impending departure weighed on him. He already missed him and he was sitting a foot away. He could see himself sitting on the train alone, returning to his empty house, preparing for his hearing, and Ed wouldn’t be there. It was unfathomable.

Apropos of nothing, Ed said, “I wanna ask you something I’ve been scared to ask.”

“Go ahead.”

Ed still hesitated.

“About Daniel,” he started, and Roy’s stomach dropped. “That night, with all the stuff that was in the papers. I think I know the answer to this, but was that… was that the night you saw me, when that happened? When you ran off…”

Roy looked away and that was answer enough. He could feel discomfort radiating off Ed in waves. Ed put his scissors down and took Roy’s hand in his.

“I’m so sorry, Roy.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

“I _do._ If I’d—”

“It wasn’t your problem.”

“It _was_.” Both of them were looking down, neither able to look at the other. “You were trying to tell me, right?” Ed said, his voice wavering. “You were trying to tell me that you—and I didn’t—I knew what you meant, I _knew_ , and I didn’t say anything, I was too—”

“You _knew?”_

“I knew what you were getting at but I was a coward, I thought maybe I was misunderstanding you, and I thought, _I’ve gotta have this wrong, he’s not_ , and—Christ, Roy, I’m so sorry, I wanted to say something but I was _scared_ and I could’ve just fucking—I should have told you, I should have kissed you, I just—”

“It’s okay.” Roy crushed Ed’s hands in his. “It’s—it’s fine, I can’t expect you to—I shouldn’t have put all that on you, you’re not responsible for my—Edward, have you been thinking about this the whole time?”

“It’s all my fault! You had a breakdown and I could’ve avoided all this if I’d—”

Roy kissed him. Ed took his face in his hands and kissed him back harder than he had to, manic in his guilt.

“We’re here now,” Roy said against his lips. “I wouldn’t change a thing.” Only once he said it did he realize it was true.

Roy stood when it was done and brushed the hair from his shoulders and chest, then helped Ed sweep everything up. When they were both standing in the dark living room, Roy gathered Ed into his arms and kissed him, deep and hard.

“Our last night,” Ed mumbled against his lips. “You got something special planned?”

Roy said, “Maybe I have my own thing I’ve been afraid to talk about.”

Ed perked up. “What?”

“Come on.”

They stumbled upstairs already tugging at each other’s clothes, clumsy in their eagerness. They fell to the bed without turning the lamp on so only the light from the hall through the open doorway illuminated them. Roy pulled Ed on top of him by the front of his shirt and they kissed until they were both moving desperately against each other.

“What's the thing you wanna tell me?” Ed mumbled, shifting his weight to his knees so he could slip his fingers just past the waistband of Roy’s boxers. Roy didn't answer for almost a minute, content to languidly kiss and revel in Ed’s weight on top of him. He didn't speak until Ed said _“Roy”_ in a bratty whine and bit his lip.

“I want—” Roy stumbled, embarrassed despite everything. “I want you to—I want you inside me.”

Ed snapped back, absolutely beaming, like a light bulb switched on.

“Are you serious?”

Roy’s ears burned.

“I waited too long.”

“No! No, there's—” Ed brushed a hand against his cheek, kissed him and kept kissing him, frantic and smiley. “—there's no bad time, I just—you could've said something.”

“I didn't want to waste a good thing.” He turned his head slightly and made Ed stop kissing him. “Is that… something you'd be… interested in?”

Ed laughed. “Fuck, you have no idea.” He kissed down his chest and Roy could feel his smile. “I’m gonna make you feel like a _king_.”

Roy tried to make sense of the cocktail of emotions that burned through him and settled on ‘pleasantly mortified.’ Ed kissed his stomach and thighs and pulled his boxers down and sucked him off, attentive and slow. Roy slapped a blind hand towards the nightstand to pass Ed lube and he cracked it open and dripped it on his fingers.

“You're always laughing at me,” Roy said, looking up at the ceiling.

Ed pressed his fingers against him. “You make me happy.”

He fingered him while he sucked him off, slow and easy, and Roy kept looking up at the ceiling and trying not to drown, to stay quiet, to relax. It was the strangest sensation, stranger for having someone else do it and not himself.

Ed asked, “Feels okay?”

Roy’s voice came out high and thin. “Yes.”

“Feel free to tell me what you want. Corrections. Suggestions.”

Ed was still working his fingers inside him as he spoke and Roy found it hard to string together a response. “Wouldn't know what to tell you if I did.”

“You'll figure it out.”

He trusted Ed to know when it was enough and he did, eventually moving up his body to kiss him, slow and thorough and surprisingly tender.

Ed said, “You can tell me to stop whenever.”

“I know.”

Ed tried to keep kissing him as he scrambled out of his clothes and was largely unsuccessful. Roy laughed and Ed kissed him again, for such a long time that Roy thought maybe they'd just do that all night, which he would have been fine with.

Then Ed whispered, “Lie on your belly. It'll be easier,” and a shiver ran down his spine.

He had never thought of Ed as particularly submissive, but it was still enthralling to see the change in him then, in everything from the way he moved to the way he spoke; it was just that tiny bit more _machismo_ and carried the same element of play from the other night and Roy loved it. He turned over and Ed fitted a pillow under his hips and showered kisses all down his spine and it was _fun_. He had to clasp his hands to stop them from shaking and his head was pounding with something that was almost but not quite fear, but it was fun.

Ed covered his body with his own, his dick hard in the cleft of his ass. He was tall enough that he could whisper in Roy’s ear and under any other circumstances, Roy would have made a comment about it.

“It’s gonna hurt,” Ed said, “and then it’s gonna feel weird, and then it's gonna feel great. Ideally.”

Roy didn't say anything. He had his arms folded under his pillow and turned his head so Ed could kiss his cheek. He buried his face and Ed sat up, held his hips and eased inside him. He dug his fingers into Roy’s skin and went still, his head bowed so his hair brushed against his back.

Roy had thought about that moment his whole life, oscillating between a self-hating repulsion so ingrained that he didn't let himself think about it and a desire so deep it scalded and scared him. Finally going through with it made him feel young and fireproof, overwhelmed and terrified. He held his breath. It did hurt, and it did feel weird. He focused on the sensation of warm metal against the back of his thigh and the reassuring strength of Ed’s hands. Neither him nor Ed made a sound and he would have been worried about it if he could think.

Then Ed shuddered. “ _Christ,_ Roy.” He was so deep inside him that Roy felt sick, like he was falling, like he left his body. Ed leaned over him, his chest pressed to his back, and buried his face in his shoulder. “S’good?”

Roy pushed back against him and groaned. _“Yes.”_

Ed gasped and rolled his hips and then they were lost in it, moving slow and close and crushing, clinging to each other like they’d die if they didn’t. Roy reached his arm back and closed his hand around the back of Ed’s neck, Ed gasped and panted and swore against his skin and time stopped. It couldn’t have been that long. It was too good and too much and Roy felt like he might die from it and couldn’t bring himself to care. Ed kissed his nape and mumbled beautiful, embarrassing things and Roy had never trusted someone, had never loved someone, as much as he did then.

“I’m—” Ed choked and bowed his head against Roy’s back. “Do you want me to—”

Roy managed, “Whatever you want.”

Ed pulled out and came on his back. It wasn't the first time he’d done it but the circumstance made it feel different then. He kissed his sweaty-tacky shoulders, smoothed his hair back. He slid a hand between Roy and the pillow under his hips and said, “Turn over,” and he did. Ed kissed him as he jerked him off, tight and careful and slow with their bodies plastered together. Roy muffled his sharp cry against Ed’s lips as a nearly unbearable orgasm ripped through him, different than anything he'd had before. He couldn't slow his breath down. Ed curled his arms around his neck. He tasted salt on his lips pressed to Ed’s sternum.

“You're alright?” Ed asked. Roy’s body was buzzing with adrenaline and lust and dull pain and he hummed an _mmhhm_ and didn’t let him go. Ed put his chin on top of his head and didn’t push him any more than that. He sighed into his hair and said, “You’re too good to me.”

Roy dragged himself to sit and rubbed his face. His heart was still racing.

Ed leaned in and said, “You sure you’re okay?”

He didn't realize he was crying until Ed’s face crumpled and he said the softest, gentlest, “ _Hey_ ,” that Roy had ever heard, and then he felt the tear roll down his cheek. Ed took his face in his hands. “Hey, hey heyheyhey, shh, what did I do? What’s—”

Roy crushed their lips together. He grabbed Ed’s face and caught his hair snarled between his fingers and didn’t let him go even though he was hot and sore and tired and wanted to sleep. He squeezed his eyes shut and thought of all the men he could have shared his life with and all the women he could have given himself to more wholly than he did. There would have been so many other faces under his hands, so many lips he could’ve kissed and known if it hadn’t taken him so long. He knew he was overreacting but he couldn’t see this as anything other than symbolic, something bigger than himself, about trust and love and truth and everything.

He summed up the feeling with: “I could have loved so much more.”

Ed thumbed his tear away before it reached his chin and he laughed hoarsely, like he did when nothing was funny and he didn't know what else to do.

“We’re here now,” he said, bumping his forehead against Roy’s. “That's all you can do.”  
  


—  
  


They woke up early and walked twenty minutes to the neighbour’s house to drop off Wan. Their train left Resembool just after dawn. For most of the journey they rode together, from Eastern Amestris into Central, talking in snatches and dozing on each other’s shoulders in a private compartment in one of the last cars of the train. Roy kept touching his newly short hair, not used to the coldness of the tight crop and thinking of the way Ed had laughed at himself with every snip, how close he was, the intimacy of sitting cross-legged on his living room floor. All of it stung. The haircut looked good, or maybe Roy loved Ed too much to tell that it looked bad.

Just past the Central border, Ed was scheduled to take one train West towards Creta and Roy was to take one North into the city. Ed would be on trains for another day and a half and Roy would be home by dusk. They disembarked and stood on the platform with their luggage and waited for Ed’s train, which left first. It was bitterly cold and Roy had his collar up and Ed had his hair tucked down the back of his coat, his glasses fogging from the heat of his body. There wasn’t snow like there was in Resembool. Roy got them both pretzels and they ate in relative silence, unexpectedly awkward now at the end. The train sat dormant next to them, having arrived thirty minutes ago, and people hurriedly climbed on in a flurry of activity on the bustling platform.

“Five minutes,” Roy said hollowly.

“If it leaves on time,” Ed said. He seemed smaller all swaddled up in his coat, shrunken in the cold. “They never do.”

“You’ll want to get a good seat.”

“I'll be fine. Not my first time,” Ed tried to joke. “Speaking of which, sorry I never got my car fixed. The shop kept saying more stuff was wrong with it. I thought maybe we could’ve taken it on a trip or something…”

“It's fine,” Roy said. “Another time.”

He thought of driving out into the snow-covered hills with Ed, pulling over to bundle up and hike to a snowy copse of cedar, striking campfires by frozen lakes, sleeping under blankets and furs. His heart ached more than he had words for.

The train attendant started walking up and down the platform calling for last boarding, shouting the departure time.

“I'll call, if you'll let me,” Roy said quickly. “I’ll spend a fortune making calls. I don't care.”

“We can both call. The university lets me use their lines.”

“Fine, good. I—thank you for these past—how long has it been?”

“Two months."

“Two months. These past two months have been—been—”

The platform was loud and crowded and after so many weeks of pleasant isolation, Roy had forgotten how to deal with the din of the city. Behind Ed, a young man was saying goodbye to his wife and she was crying and it was distracting, and to his left, a father was yelling at his son for misplacing their travel documents.

Seeing his hesitation, Ed took Roy’s gloved hand in his own.

“I love you,” Ed said quietly. “It’ll be fine.”

“I love you, too.”

Ed pulled him into a hug. Roy buried his face in his hair and crushed him in his arms, hugging him so tight his heels lifted off the pavement. He squeezed his eyes shut and breathed in the smell of him, the way he felt in his arms, his cheek next to his. He cradled the back of his head, drawing him closer. He wanted to stay. He needed to stay.

He opened his eyes and over Ed’s shoulder, he met the gaze of the man who yelled at his son, who had stopped yelling and was staring at Ed and Roy with an unmistakable look of disgust.

Roy froze up. His heart shattered into a thousand pieces and took his confidence with it.

Ed pulled back. The attendant was calling for departure again and Ed’s eyes flicked to him and away. He looked up at Roy, his face tipped up, his lips parted. Waiting. They had seconds left. They wouldn’t see each other for months, maybe closer to a year, and he was waiting for a kiss.

Roy glanced up again. The man behind Ed was still looking at them and had now placed a protective hand on his son’s shoulder. Others who passed by hurrying for the train also looked at them, maybe recognizing Ed or himself or neither of them, just absorbed in the spectacle of two men in an embrace. Roy’s palms sweat. He screamed at himself, _kiss him kiss him kiss him kiss him_ , but he couldn’t move. Ed was more important to him than ten thousand strangers, but he couldn’t move.

Ed’s face fell and he laughed, not in a way that was funny, but in a way that drove knives into Roy’s sternum.

“Really?”

“Ed—”

The attendant started to shut the doors.

Ed said, “I gotta go.” He Roy’s his arm one last squeeze as he drew away. “I’ll call you.”

He picked up his trunks, turned and hurried onto the car nearest them, showing his ticket to the attendant, who yelled at him for being late; Roy could hear Ed yelling back as the door shut behind him. He watched as the train chugged to life and pulled away from the platform.

 _If I were brave I would go to Creta_ , Roy thought, watching as the train got smaller and smaller in the distance. _I would change my ticket and surprise him. I’d drop everything and we’d start a life together._

By the time his own train arrived at the station, he’d scrapped the idea. Ed didn’t need him to barge into his life, unemployed and untethered like a leech ready to suck away at whatever foundation he had built in Creta; sharing his apartment, his friends, his connections. Ed needed him whole and he wished he were better at being that way.

The remainder of Roy’s trip was agony. He could see the disappointment on Ed’s face perfectly in his mind and he couldn’t make it go away. He wondered if he’d grown at all during his weeks with Ed or if he was the same spineless man he was when he arrived—all those declarations of love and it wasn’t enough to kiss him goodbye in public, all that pain he went through, and he still wasn’t strong. He wasn’t sure that anything was different at all. He was tired but he couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that he was going home and would not find Ed there.

He arrived in Central City after dusk. The train station was packed and bustling with several trains arriving at once and he shouldered his way through the throng to the dark streets outside. He did not run into Prime Minister Hudson as him and Ed had joked. It took him twenty minutes to flag down a cab and his address felt heavy and strange on his tongue when he spoke it to the driver; even after only a few months away, he felt less attached to his concept of home. He thought of Ed on a train somewhere near the Cretan border, two hours ahead, alone and angry with him.

His home loomed above him after a short drive, an opulent three-story condo with white siding and wrought iron bars curling over the windows. He tipped the driver generously and refused help bringing his trunk up his front walk. His hedges had become unkempt in his absence and but his mailbox was free of letters; he imagined someone had been stopping by, maybe Riza or one of his neighbours. He unlocked the door and stepped into the cold, dark entryway, and the stale air felt like that of a school or doctor’s office, shut-in and unloved. He surveyed the foyer and spoke to it with as much contempt as he could possibly muster: “ _You_ again.”  
  


—  
  


He avoided slipping back into the whiskey-soaked depression he fell into the last time he was home, more to save face for Ed than for the sake of his own wellbeing. He aired out the house and called his housekeeper and gardener to resume service. He bought some athletic wear he could run in. He visited the library and read old papers to catch up on the nation’s recent events. He tried to prepare for his hearing despite not knowing what to expect and he thought about Ed every moment that he wasn’t doing something else, so he tried to keep busy.

He called Riza and told her everything, minus the gory details. He laid on a couch in his study and waxed as poetic as she would allow, which wasn’t much, but it was enough.

“I miss him like—like a physical thing. Part of me that’s gone.”

“Like a missing limb?” Riza offered.

“Inappropriate. I know it was just a couple months, and really only weeks that we were _together_ in that sense, but God, it was so much. Words fail me.”

“That doesn't surprise me. You and Edward have always had a… strange relationship. Part of me knew you'd either spend your lives together or die at each other’s hands, if that makes any sense.”

“Unfortunately.”

“And it was only two weeks, but you've… Correct me if I’m wrong, but you've had feelings for him since…”

Roy stared up at the ceiling and supplied nothing.

Riza continued, “Well, we both know since when. I’ll just say that I’m proud of you for waiting.”

“I liked our relationship better when you at least _pretended_ to respect me.”

“I have endless respect for you, Roy,” she said warmly, “but someone has to keep you grounded.”

“I keep myself plenty grounded, thank you very much.”

“You need to be grounded by someone who likes you more than you like yourself,” Riza corrected. It stung and Roy knew he deserved it.

“Noted. I’m working on it.”

“I know you are. Even your voice sounds different, to be honest. Resembool agreed with you.”

“Being in love agreed with me.” Roy rubbed his eyes. “I’m trying not to fall apart without him. I don’t think I will.”

“I can’t imagine it’s just him that’s made you better. You never struck me as a man who _needs_ anyone to be whole.”

“Says the person I’ve leaned on the most in my life. You’re being generous.”

“Maybe you need generosity,” she snapped. "You’re certainly due.”

Roy groaned. “Okay. Fine. I’m sorry.”

“Don't be sorry, just don’t do it.” Something shuffled on her end of the line. “You’re reasonably well-liked in Creta, but I don’t know if I see you immigrating anytime soon. But correct me if I’m wrong.”

“You’re… not,” Roy said, hesitating. “He’s coming back to Amestris.”

“He’s leaving the university?”

“He’s transferring to the University of Central Amestris. Or, he’s trying to.”

“To head up their alchemistry department?”

“Ideally.”

“That _would_ be ideal.” There was something guarded in her voice, the kind of stiffness she’d tried and failed to hide ever since Roy had known her. He knew her skepticism came from a good place, but he wished it weren’t there. He wanted to tell her Ed was the only person he ever felt comfortable being vulnerable in front of, other than her, but he couldn't voice it. Not sober and not over the phone.

“It will work,” Roy said, pushing every ounce of certainty he had in him into the words, so certain that he heard them and almost, almost believed them. “It has to.”  
  


—  
  


Roy’s hearing was on a Tuesday morning at the crack of dawn. He shaved, slicked his hair back and donned a newly-pressed uniform for the occasion, shined boots and all. Given the situation, he had no idea how personal they would get with their questioning or whether they’d skirt around the issue and focus on his shortcomings in other departments to construct a discharge case without using the word _homosexual_. He wasn’t expecting much.

He stepped into the small hall that the hearing would be held in two minutes early. He was surprised to see Nathaniel Wyse there, the current Führer, until he realized how absurd it would be if he weren’t. Despite the interconnectedness of their jobs, Roy thought little of the man: he was over seventy years old and incurably mild mannered, with thin hair, watery eyes and a strange smile. Much of Roy’s current prestige in the public eye was due to how bored the nation was with Wyse, which Roy was both grateful for and uncomfortable with; compared to Wyse, Roy looked young, handsome and headstrong. Despite years working alongside him, Roy could count on one hand the number of personal conversations they’d had, and it didn’t help that the shoes Wyse had to fill were Grumman’s, whom the public adored until the day he died and well after. Roy hadn’t heard from Wyse once in the months he’d been gone.

Wyse sat with another man at a long table. Roy recognized him but couldn’t place his name. He greeted the two of them with a salute and took his seat at a smaller table across from them, doffed his hat and folded his hands.

“Mustang,” Wyse said, almost warmly. “It’s good to see you.”

Roy nodded seriously. “You as well.”

The man on Wyse’s left spoke. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Thomas Garrity, chief personnel officer of Central command.” He had a high forehead and a heavily lined face, thin lips and impeccable posture.

“Nice to meet you,” Roy said, but it wasn’t nice. He’d gone almost his whole career without speaking to anyone in personnel about a demerit or anything close to it, and he would have preferred to keep it that way. There was a lull after Roy spoke that made it clear how awkward all three men felt to be having their current conversation. Roy tried to be helpful. “We’re here to discuss my future with the Armed Forces of Amestris, according to your letter.”

“Yes. Thank you for being so punctual, I understand you were out of town during your leave.”

“Yes,” Roy said, hesitating and unwilling to elaborate. “Would you like me to start?”

They seemed surprised by this. Garrity shuffled a sheaf of papers in front of him. “If you’d like.”

“I just want to make sure we’re all on the same page.” Roy sat up a little straighter. “The situation as I understand it is that I was seen having relations with my administrative assistant, Daniel Hillyer, and this was released in the media and blown out of proportion.” His voice sounded strained even to him. “Hillyer and I were not—and have never been—in a relationship, which is why I didn’t notify personnel about a conflict of interest despite him being my subordinate. I have never pursued a relationship with another active member of the military, subordinate or not. If I had, I would have informed personnel immediately through the appropriate channels. And had we not been exposed, I would have insisted that Daniel transfer to another department following the incident.”

“It was inappropriate regardless,” Garrity said tightly. “It was behaviour unbecoming of a high-ranking military officer and the publicity reflected poorly on the Amestrian military.”

“What behaviour did you find inappropriate?” Roy fought to keep his voice level. “This was an interaction that happened behind closed doors and we were intruded on. It was an invasion of my privacy.”

“Be that as it may—”

“If I had been in a public space and kissed my date goodnight, would that be deemed behaviour unbecoming of a military officer?”

“Mustang,” Wyse said sharply, sounding more exasperated than angry. “What is your point?”

“I believe that if Hillyer had been a female officer, we wouldn’t be having this conversation at all, sir.” Roy squared his jaw. His gloved hands didn’t shake. “I understand that it was inappropriate to have any kind of relations with a direct report, but that isn’t grounds for dismissal, nor even for this level of escalation. I’ll accept any appropriate demerit you choose to record on my file, but I find this hearing to be wildly inappropriate, with all due respect. I’ve broken no laws.”

Wyse and Garrity glanced at one another. Roy kept his breathing steady and his back straight despite his hammering heart.

Garrity spoke slowly. “And you’re aware that Hillyer’s discharge papers are currently being processed and that he submitted them in the week following your… liason.”

“Yes. I didn’t speak to him during my leave and I was in no way involved in his decision to leave.”

Garrity started to write and didn’t look up for almost a minute. Wyse and Roy awkwardly looked at one another because there was little else to look at in the small room.

“There’s also the matter of your declining mental health,” Garrity said, looking down. “After the incident with Hillyer, you failed to show up to Headquarters for two weeks without notice. When asked about it at the time, you cited undiagnosed depression and refused to see an appointed therapist.”

“That’s true.” Roy shifted uncomfortably. “The three months leave has done me a world of good, sir. And I would see a therapist now, if Medical deems it necessary.”

“That may be a possibility.” Garrity looked up. “You said you were out of town during your leave. You were with family?”

Roy acted on a decision he made weeks ago.

“I was visiting my partner at his home near East City. It was… therapeutic.”

“Your partner.”

“Yes, sir. Dr. Edward Elric.” Their faces perked up at the name. “He’s head of the department of alchemistry at the Uni—”

“The University of Northern Creta, yes. I know his work,” Garrity said lightly, like Ed wasn't the international face of modern science. He wrote something down, which Roy decided was good. “He was a Major, was he not?”

“He retired in 1917, but, yes.”

“And how long have you been together?”

“Several months,” Roy lied, unwilling to get into the specifics. Anger licked at his throat because it was none of the military’s business who he was seeing and all of this, from the moment he sat down, was just short of heinously inappropriate. At the same time, he knew they were trying to determine how much of a liability it would be to keep him in a public role, or what type of discharge he would get. It was smarter for him to stay quiet.

“Quite a…” Garrity visibly struggled with the rest of his sentence and looked to Wyse for help. He provided none. “... a high profile pairing,” he settled on, and seemed put off by himself. Roy could only shrug.

“Edward and I have known each other for a very long time, sir. We’re together _despite_ our respective prestige.”

“Of course.”

If they brought up Ed’s age, Roy decided, he’d storm out. The conversation would cross the line from an invasive interview to insulting, tawdry gossip, and he would throw away his pension and his future and he’d leave.

“He’s a good man,” Wyse said idly, “that Elric.”

Roy bit back a smile that he knew was too honest to be smooth. “He is.”

There was a long pause. Garrity wrote on the papers in front of him and Wyse inspected his nails. Roy thought only of Ed. After a time, Garrity looked up and sighed a sigh that sounded like years and years of banalities and exhaust.

“What do _you_ want to do, Mustang?” he asked. “Regardless of current events, this country owes you an unpayable debt. I know it. Everyone knows it. At the end of the day, we want to accommodate you. I don’t think there’s a man in this compound who would correct me if I called you an irreplaceable resource.”

Roy blinked at him, startled.

“Thank you, sir.”

Garrity waved his hand. “It’s only the truth.”

“He’s right,” Wyse added. “If there… if there is any way we can make you stay, we’ll do it. Or, we’ll try. I can’t imagine this country in the hands of any other, to be frank with you.”

“Thank you, sir,” Roy said again, “immensely. I can’t tell you what that means to me.”

“You can give us some idea,” Garrity said, folding his hands on the table. “What do _you_ see as your future with the Amestrian Military?”

Roy knew what he wanted to say. He’d rehearsed it like he rehearsed any speech and went over any decision he'd ever made, a thousand times over.

“I’d like to retire,” he told them. “Honestly and respectfully, with whatever bells and whistles you'd like to give me, or none at all.”

Both Garrity and Wyse looked impossibly grave. Wyse said, “You're sure?”

Roy nodded. He would go on for a few more minutes and explain himself, and the three of them reached an agreement that was acceptable to everyone but ideal for only Roy. He received two firm handshakes and left with a spring in his step and a head full of the future.  
  


—  
  


Ed called, and when he did, he didn't talk about their lack of a kiss on the platform. There was no fight and no callout, and if anything, Roy felt worse.

Ed said, “It didn't sink in until a few days after I was home, that you weren't somehow on your way. It seemed like a joke.”

“A misunderstanding.”

“Yeah, exactly. Like you'd just be there in a few days. It's unreal to think that you're so far away. And time zones! You’re three hours behind.”

“I can't believe we did this for so many years.”

“It was different. I could forget I was in love with you.”

“And now?”

“No chance.”

Roy wanted to bring it up, but he couldn’t. He didn't need to hear Ed say he was a coward, he knew, and part of him worried that his cowardice meant as much to Ed as it did to him. He worried the distance and time would make Ed’s resolve fizzle. He knew he should be better than this.

“Being back at work on my research is… interesting,” Ed said. “It’s pretty much starting again at square one. If we can't get these proteins to express, then all our other research was for nothing and I can kiss my paper _and_ that sweet grant money goodbye.”

Roy wasn’t proud of it, but his mind went immediately to one place.

“I imagine you can’t leave the university until your research is done.”

There was a brief lull of static over the line.

Ed said, “It wouldn’t be smart, no.”  
  


—  
  


Roy liked Prime Minister Hudson’s office more than he remembered. The bleary sun of early spring streamed in the window behind his desk and Roy coveted those four walls more than anything else he could think of. It felt like a lifetime since he’d last stood on the other side of Hudson’s desk, but it had only been several months. Hudson looked the same, but Roy knew that _he_ didn’t. Hudson’s raised eyebrows said so, and Roy watched him take in his finely pressed suit, midnight blue, several shades darker than his military uniform. It had been a long time since anyone who was anyone saw Roy Mustang in his civvies.

“Mr. Mustang,” Hudson said, standing. He reached over his desk to shake Roy’s hand. “Good to see you, it’s been a while. You’re looking good.”

“I feel good,” Roy said, with a modest shrug. Hudson gestured to a seat across from his desk and Roy laid his coat over the back of it, then sat. “How have you been? How’s the family?”

“Oh, very well. My eldest is graduating secondary school in the spring and we just came back from a tour of universities.”

“Wonderful! The University of Central Amestris, I assume?”

“Yes, and Eastern Amestris, Northern Creta, etcetera, etcetera.”

Roy seized the obvious opportunity. “My partner is a department head at UNC. Wonderful campus, they’ve got such a strong school culture.”

Hudson’s already raised eyebrows climbed further. “What department does sh—he—they—head up?”

“Alchemistry. Although confidentially, he may be transferring to UCA later this year.”

“Edward Elric,” Hudson said, not a question. Roy all but beamed.

“None other.”

Roy saw a gleaming future in front of him where he got to talk about Ed at length, his partner, his boyfriend, his illustrious man. He vowed to be insufferable about it. He would carry photos around in his wallet.

Hudson said, “My daughter liked UNC. It’s in her top three.”

“Excellent to hear, sir.” Roy relaxed in his chair a little, or made it appear like he was relaxed. “Not to be brash, but as you can imagine, I didn't ask for an audience with you to chat about scholarships.”

Hudson looked slightly uncomfortable, which Roy liked. “ _Job opportunities_ , you said on the phone.”

“Precisely. I want to chat with you about one of your cabinet ministers. First of all—I’m not sure we’ve ever spoken about this, but correct me if I’m wrong—I want to congratulate you on putting together an absolutely stellar cabinet. I remember being impressed following your election, immediately. They fill in the gaps in your own experience perfectly. A very accomplished group of individuals.”

“Thank you,” Hudson said, slowly. He had his hands resting awkwardly on the arms of his chair. “They've helped me make some incredibly difficult decisions for the good of Amestris. I have the utmost faith in all of them.”

“All of them?” Roy leaned forward slightly. “I read in the paper—was it last week? About your Minister of Foreign Affairs, Branson Fuller, calling for an annexation of Xing and the abolishment of their… I believe the phrase quoted by the _Central Chronicle_ was ‘back-asswards, knuckle-dragging feudalism.’ I imagine this isn't your government's official platform on relations with our eastern neighbours.”

“Of course not!” Hudson sputtered. Roy had never seen him sputter before. If he had to put his finger on the most valuable thing his decades in the military had taught him, something he couldn't have gotten anywhere else, it was the subtle art of intimidation.

“Of course not,” he agreed, “and everyone knows that Fuller was speaking out of turn. After the sweeping reforms Führer Grumman made back in the day, ending all that ancient business of bloody, violent border wars, I don't think anyone expects our _government_ to start all that up again. That kind of folly is… strictly the military’s business, if I may speak frankly.”

Hudson’s posture looked stiffer and more uncomfortable with every passing second. He said, “I caught your retirement ceremony on the television. It was a very touching affair. Your speech was brilliant.”

Roy smiled. “It was the least I could do for an organization that has given me so much. But with that being said, I’d like to loop back to the matter of job opportunities.”

“Right.”

“It occurred to me last year that I have outgrown the military in every way,” Roy continued. “That it was no longer aligned with my own goals, or the goals I hold for Amestris, or the wellbeing of Amestrian citizens. I think that we can both agree that our military is something of a dinosaur in this day and age—off of the record, of course.”

“Just how much of him this conversation is _off the record_ , Mustang?”

“Almost none of it,” Roy said with a wave of his hand. “I’m saying nothing I wouldn't repeat for an audience. Or have quoted in the _Chronicle_.”

He couldn't tell if Hudson was sweating from where he sat, but swore he was more blotchy than when he arrived. “Go on.”

“Like I was saying, I’ve outgrown the military. And Amestris has, as well.” Roy leaned in again. “Apologies for the long-winded speech. I’ll make my point: I’d like to be your Minister of Foreign Affairs whenever you're ready to have me. Regardless of how you feel about me personally, there’s not a man in this country who wouldn't recommend me for the role. I’ve lived through the worst crises Amestris ever faced and came out the other side ready to enact change. I spearheaded the Ishval separation movement and put an end to one of the most shameful episodes in our history. I was at the table for Grumman’s peace talks with Creta. I have working relationships with the head of state of every nation we will ever deal with _and_ , most importantly, I love this god-awful country more than I can put into words. I’ve dedicated my life to bettering Amestris and I’d like to continue to do so, as part of your cabinet. And I’d like to act now, specifically, because if Fuller keeps running his racist mouth he will undo _decades_ of the work Grumman and I did dragging Amestris out of the global gutter.”

Hudson didn't speak for several long moments after Roy finished. He looked profoundly uncomfortable and, Roy noted with no small amount of pleasure, laughably young.

“This is highly unorthodox,” he said. His voice was tight and clipped.

Roy said, “So we make it orthodox. I’m prepared to go through whatever processes, jump through whatever hoops, documents, procedures, paperwork, etcetera, in order to make this happen. I respect that there are things in place.” He paused. “You’re not denying that I’d be a good fit for the role.”

Hudson grimaced. “I don’t think anyone could.”

Roy crossed one leg over the other. He knew he looked unimaginably smug and didn’t care. “I’m happy to hear that, sir. I’m quite proud of my career at the end of the day, and it feels good to be recognized.”

“Of course,” Hudson drawled. He glanced over his shoulder out the window at the dwindling daylight. He turned back, closed his eyes and rubbed his face with both hands, then his forehead, then his thin, mousy hair. “I’ll be honest with you, Mustang.”

“I’d like that, sir.”

“You scare the hell out of me. Always have. Can’t forget that you’re an alchemist, you know? Those damn gloves.”

Roy glanced down at the fine, blood red embroidery on the backs of his hands. “Understandable.”

“When you came in here in September, you looked like shit, pardon my language. I won’t ask what you were going through and it’s none of my business, but whatever it was, it seems like you’re past it.”

Roy nodded seriously. “I am. Wholly.”

“Glad to hear it.” Hudson rubbed his head again and looked around the room, as if there were anyone else there to support him. “You’re a powerful figure and concerningly well-liked. Fuller has been a colossal failure. I’d be an idiot not to take your offer, regardless of how I feel about you personally.”

“That’s wise, sir,” Roy said, smiling slowly. “You know what they say about the respective distances of friends and enemies.”

Hudson stood, sighed, and went in for another handshake. Roy grabbed his hand so hard he winced.

“We’ll talk,” Hudson said, guarded. “I can’t promise anything, but… well, we’ll talk.”

Roy drew himself up to his full height and if he was shorter than Hudson, it wasn’t by much.

“I look forward to hearing from you.”  
  


—  
  


“He knew my work?” Ed asked, his voice tinny over a bad connection; Roy knew by then that a bad connection meant he was in the lab.

“He knew _you_ , in any case. I’m not sure about your work. And you can’t sound surprised every time that happens. You _know.”_

“I know that I know. It’s just so goddamn thrilling every single time.”

He didn’t know how anyone managed to convey audible smugness the way Ed did.

“You always told me you wanted a nice, quiet life. I don’t see how fame factors in there.”

“Being a scientist still counts as a quiet life! Being a _famous_ scientist is a great little gray area, and you know how I love those.”

“I do.”

He heard Ed’s desk chair creaking. “So, Hudson didn’t think you were gunning for his job?”

“I’m not gunning for his job.”

“Not right away, no. That’d be stupid. But everyone knows you were gonna be Führer, so he’s gotta know you wanna be PM, too.”

“It’s likely, yes.”

“What a knob.”

“He’s not a knob. He’s a perfectly fine Prime Minister and a good man.”

“Not as good a Prime Minister as you’ll be,” Ed said, his voice syrupy sweet. “And not as good a man.”

Roy smiled against the receiver. “Well, no.”  
  


—  
  


Roy’s life became parcelled out into the space between phone calls. He was forced to live and breathe and speak to humans who weren’t Ed, and then for a few glorious hours a couple times a week, schedules permitting, he lived.

On a Tuesday night, the phone rang in his study. He set his book down on the couch and reached for the end table to answer it. “Roy Mustang.”

“Aw, I called your study line. Whoops.”

“I was in here anyways.” Roy glanced at the clock. “It’s late for you.”

“I went out with some folks from work. Maybe had a couple drinks,” Ed said, his voice lilting and flirty. “Maybe talked about my beautiful boyfriend who lives in Amestris.”

“You didn’t.”

“I sure did. They were all really excited. I don’t know what kind of reputation I’ve got over here, but they seemed shocked. I dunno what that means.”

“Did you tell them the boyfriend was me?”

“I said he was a high-ranking military officer. I know you’re not anymore, technically, but you’re also not anything else yet.” He paused. “If they think I’m dating Führer Wyse, I’m gonna hang myself.”

“He’s a nice man.”

“ _You_ date him, then.”

Roy laughed. He caught himself twisting the phone cord around his finger like a giddy schoolgirl and stopped. “God above, I miss you, Edward.”

“Mm. I miss you, too. Makes me sick I miss you so much sometimes.”

“Likewise.” Roy slumped down on the couch, letting easy weariness seep into him. He imagined that the pillow touching his shoulder was Ed resting next to him. “You’re at home, then?”

“Sure am. You’ve never seen my apartment here, have you?”

“No. Tell me about it.”

“Hmm. It’s just one room, but it’s big and open. The ceiling’s got a slant on one side and there’s a little window up there, plus two more windows on the far wall, lookin’ out over a park.” There was a sound over the line that Roy couldn’t place. “Some plants, but they’re mostly dead. Four… five bookshelves. Sink fulla dishes.”

“What’s the bed like?” Roy asked lowly. He swore he could hear Ed smile.

“Big,” Ed told him. The sound Roy heard was rustling sheets. “Real soft. _Too_ soft. Flannel sheets.”

“What colour?”

“Orange.”

“And you're in bed.”

“Yup. I got home and tore everything off and flopped down to call you. So I’m just in my underwear.”

Roy could hear the strain in his own voice. “Which pair?”

“Those old white ones that’re too small for me.”

Roy remembered them. They were thin and pulled tight over his ass and made him look like an absolute dream. He said, “I thought this would be fun and I regret it.”

Ed moved against the sheets. “It can still be fun. Get comfortable.”

Roy heard the snap of a waistband. He slid his hands into his pants and let his head fall back against the couch.

“I feel silly.”

"You won’t in a second,” Ed purred. He sighed into the receiver and Roy curled his fingers around his dick.

“You don’t have to tell me what you're doing,” he whispered. “I just want to hear you.”  
  


—  
  


Roy stopped at his usual coffee shop on the way back from the parliament buildings on a wet, dreary afternoon. He shook off his umbrella, ordered at the counter and stood to the side to wait. The man making drinks on the other side of the counter glanced up at him once, then twice, and eventually said, “You’re Roy Mustang, right?”

Roy raised his eyebrows. “That’s right.”

“I’m Jonathan, hi. You’re in here all the time, I thought I’d better introduce myself.”

He put his carafe down to reach across the espresso machine and shake Roy’s hand. He was a head taller than Roy and a lifetime younger, with thick, dark hair and big teeth.

“That’s kind of you. Nice to meet you.”

Jonathan went back to making coffees as he spoke.

“Your retirement ceremony was beautiful, by the way. Congratulations. But aren’t you too young to be retiring?”

Roy caught himself before he said _I wish._

“That’s polite of you to say. I’m just retiring from the military, not from… work in general.”

“That makes sense,” Jonathan said, his head bent down. “I’m thinking about enlisting. Maybe we could grab a coffee and chat about it when you’re free? Coffee somewhere else, mind you. I see enough of this place.”

Roy laughed brightly. “I’m not sure I’m qualified to talk about careers in the military at this point, but I’d be happy to put you in contact with someone from recruiting.”

“Oh, no, that’s fine. If that’s the case, we could always just… talk about something _else_ over coffee.”

His tone was unmistakable and he offered Roy a nervous, flirty smile. Roy was speechless for a handful of long seconds, trying to remember the last time a stranger had asked him out. Jonathan was young enough to be his son and classically attractive.

“I…” He wasn’t considering it, but he wanted to be kind. “I’m flattered, but I’m seeing someone.”

Jonathan laughed and it sounded genuine. “Of course you are. Don’t worry about it.” He snapped a lid on Roy’s coffee and slid it across the counter. “Here’s your coffee, sir. Enjoy.”  
  


—  
  


Roy read names in the phonebook laid out in front of him while the phone rang, Hillsman, Hillson, Hillstrom, and on. He counted the rings and it was picked up on the eighth.

“Hullo?”

“Hello. I’d like to speak to Daniel Hillyer, please.”

The first second of silence told him his mistake.

He said, “This is Daniel, isn't it?”

“We worked together for two years, sir. Roy.” His voice was cold and flat.

“We didn't speak on the _phone,_ I—nevermind. I’m sorry.” Roy watched ice pop and melt in his glass of whiskey. There was a long silence. “How have you been?”

“I work at the library now.”

Daniel offered nothing else.

“The Central Library is a beautiful building,” Roy said weakly. Daniel huffed.

“Look, can I help you with something? Do you need me to sign some kind of statement? I've been waiting for this damn call, I—”

“No! No, nothing like that, I—I want to apologize. I realize it’s overdue, but I’ve been—”

“You want to _apologize_?” Daniel yelled. “After what you did, you think you can just call me up and say you’re _sorry_?”

“I didn't mean—”

“I had to come out to my family because of you, Roy! I had tabloids knocking on my door for weeks asking me all these sick questions about you! I just barely got this library job, nowhere would even give me an interview!”

Roy knew the phone call would make him sick but he underestimated how badly.

“Daniel, I am so—”

“And that isn't even the worst part!” He was still yelling, his voice audibly shaking with rage or something else. “The worst part is that you _knew_ I was in love with you and you obviously never felt anything for me, and you still just waltz in fucking drunk or high or whatever you were and kiss me like that! I get that you didn't love me back, but you didn't even _care_!”

Roy choked.

“I didn't know you were in love with me.”

Again, he didn't speak for a long time. Roy heard a soft sound and prayed that he wasn’t crying.

“I think that's worse,” he said finally. “I have nothing to say to you. Please don't contact me again.”  
  


—  
  


Roy became absorbed in Hudson’s world and went to meeting after meeting with his advisors, the rest of his cabinet, members of the local legislature. Ed was deep in his research and didn’t talk about much else. Their twice-weekly calls became weekly at best and were always late at night when they were both exhausted.

Roy laid in bed, barely awake enough to hold the phone to his ear.

“I miss your smile,” he said dreamily. “I miss your laugh. I miss the way you play with your hair. I miss your little metal foot.”

Ed said, “I have normal-sized feet.”

“Not the point.”

Roy turned over and pressed his face into his pillow, holding the receiver to his other ear. He looked at the space next to him in his arrogantly large bed and thought of how Ed had never laid there.

Ed said, “I miss your dimples and your excellent eyebrows. And the way you move your lips when you read.”

Roy realized that he had come to see himself as half of a whole, and that being himself, alone, was suddenly dissatisfying. This upset him, as someone who used to pride himself on his love of solitude. On bad days, he hated Ed for taking away his independence, and on good days he felt blessed to know a love so towering that it made the sheer act of existing in its absence into hell on earth.

“Edward,” he said slowly, turning over again. He wrapped the phone cord around his wrist. “It’s been months.”

“I know.”

“Are you… do you _want_ to move here? Would you like to talk about it? I know we—we said some things in the heat of the moment that… I understand if you…”

He couldn’t say it. Ed made some disgruntled noise.

“You’re having doubts?”

“I’m asking if _you_ are.”

“I’m not!”

“Neither am I. Don’t be mad, I just know that what I’m asking is a lot. A _lot._ I want to give you the opportunity to—”

“To reconsider?”

Roy hesitated. “To come up with something new.”

He thought, as he did occasionally, about their last non-kiss on the platform outside Central. He knew absence didn’t always make the heart grow fonder. He knew that distance was difficult, painful and inconvenient. He knew that despite what Ed told him, he’d built a life in Creta that didn’t involve Roy. Roy had gone ahead and gotten things started with Hudson and he couldn’t leave, which meant Ed had to. Now that they had come down to the wire, he was more aware than ever that he was asking Ed to uproot entirely.

Ed said, “I don’t want something new. We talked about this. I’m moving there and that’s still the plan.”

“But—”

“No _buts_. What’s going on? Why’s this coming up now?”

Roy struggled to sit up in bed. “I just want to make sure that—”

“That I still _love_ you? Are you kidding me? We’ve been talking less ‘cause we’re both dick deep in work, not ‘cause I’m having doubts, and fuck you for thinking I would!”

“Don’t yell at me for being courteous.”

“I’m yelling at you for rushing me!” Ed shouted. “This isn’t some _favour_ I’m doing you! We waited ten fucking years, Roy! What’s six months?”

 _“I_ _miss you!_ ” Roy yelled back, angry in his bitterness. “I miss you so much I can’t think straight! I don’t _live_ when you’re not here, I—I’m not like you! I don’t have a life here! I know that’s pathetic and that’s fine, I don’t care, I just—I can’t stand this, sometimes.” He lost steam by the end. Ed didn’t say anything back and Roy’s heart hammered in his chest. He knew he’d made a mistake. He couldn’t possibly backpedal fast enough. “Edward?”

“I’ve been talking to the school for months, I just didn’t wanna let you know because I wasn’t sure UCA would want me.” He sounded flat, just shy of anger. “But I found out last week that they’re into it, we’re just hammering out details of how and when. Is that good enough for you?”

“I… yes. Yes, that’s great.” Roy fell back against the bed. “I’m sorry. I’m just very, very tired.”

“I know.” Ed sighed and Roy heard the now-familiar sound of him flopping down in his bed, too. “It’s been a long week. I’ll let you get to sleep.”

“Alright. I love you.”

“I love you, too. I’ll see you soon.”

Roy closed his eyes. “Here’s hoping.”  
  


—  
  


The next week, Roy got a call when he was sitting at his desk. It was late on a Friday and although it was his study phone, he could guess who it was.

To be sure, he answered, “Roy Mustang.”

“Hello?”

“Good evening, my love. Should I cut to the chase and ask what you’re wearing, or would you rather we start with pleasantries?”

There was a bemused cackle.

“It’s Alphonse, Roy.”

Roy shot out of his chair. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry, you sounded more—more _Edward_ than—”

Al laughed happily and it became apparent, if it weren’t before, that he was speaking to the younger Elric.

“Don’t worry about it. Listen, I can’t chat for long, but I’m going to be in Central tomorrow and I was wondering if you had a second to grab coffee.”

“Yes! Of course! When and where?”

Al gave him the name of a café and a time, apologized for being brief, then hung up.

Roy stood outside the agreed upon café the next day, fiddling nervously with his hands. It was early spring and the street was lined with flowering trees, the air sweet with the smell of them. He didn’t know what to expect from this meeting, a reaming out or some strongly-worded lack of a blessing. He never knew what to make of Al; it was hard enough to understand one Elric, let alone both of them and the way they related to one another.

Al appeared around the end of the block and waved. He wore a light jacket and a thick sweater and Roy felt overdressed in his newly-habitual suit. Al approached and Roy noticed that he was walking quickly and didn't look particularly relaxed.

He said, “Alphonse,” warmly, unsure of whether to go in for a hug or a handshake. Al took his outstretched hand but didn't shake it.

“He says he’s moving back to Amestris,” Al told him, his voice small. “Is that your doing? He’s coming back to be with you?”

Roy froze. “Ye–es, I suppose so. But he wouldn’t be doing it if it weren’t what’s best for him and his career, he says UCA is perfectly—”

Al pulled him in and hugged him, tight and fierce, Roy’s face pressed into his shoulder. After a moment of floundering, Roy wrapped his arms around him and hugged back.

“Thank you,” Al mumbled. “ _Seven years_ he’s been out of the country, and he’s finally coming home thanks to you.”

Roy was speechless. Ed had mentioned that Al was excited for him to move, but he didn’t think about how much that must have meant to him.

“You’re welcome,” he said into Al’s jacket. “Happy to help.”

Al pulled away, laughed and scrubbed at his eyes.

“I could never ask him to come back, you know? He’s living his life out there.”

Roy squeezed his arm and let him go. “I understand. You’re his brother.”

Al laughed again, his too-familiar gold eyes searching Roy’s face. He made Roy miss Ed even more—so close but so far, same but different.

“God, I can’t believe this. If someone had told me when I was fourteen that Ed would be moving in with _you_ someday, I’d’ve laughed at them.”

“Life is upsetting like that.”

Al smacked him on the back. “Aw, nonsense. You're family now, you know, whether you like it or not.”

The enormity of that suckerpunched Roy into silence: he saw himself attending Elric family gatherings with Ed and Al, Mei, Bo, Jun and Winry, for all intents and purposes inheriting a brother-in-law, sister-in-law and nieces. A family. He worked his jaw back and forth for a moment, speechless.

“I like it,” he said, stupidly. “No question about that.”

Al laughed again. His laugh was like the best of Ed’s laughs, a bright, happy explosion of sound.

“Glad to hear it,” he said, looking towards the café. “C’mon, let's get lunch. I don't have a lot of time before this conference, but I'd like to catch up. Ed tells me you're _up to things_. Political things.”

“I am,” Roy agreed. He followed Al into the café but his mind was elsewhere, dwelling nervously on Ed’s small doubts, telling himself not to dwell and dwelling anyways on the family he’d disappoint if things went south. He put it aside for the duration of lunch but it kept coming back in the weeks that followed, every time he would call Ed and hear no update on the move, and he would think of the the sweet man he went to lunch with who just wanted his older brother to be happy.  
  


—  
  


Spring waxed. On good days, Roy felt like the protagonist of a sappy Victorian novel who wrote letters to the star-crossed lover that fate was determined to keep from him. On bad days, he felt like a sad old man chasing after some beautiful young protégé who was humoring him. Neither was ideal. He tried to keep his head above water. He went for a run most mornings and did exercises in his room. He didn't keep liquor in the house. He called Ed when he could and they masturbated to the sound of each other, and for a while, it was enough. Roy’s nerves picked away at him and tried to convince him with every passing day that his love was a brief tryst and that he would soon go back to being alone. That he was _already_ alone.

He voiced none of this to Ed because he was terrified of poisoning their relationship with his insecurity more than he already had. He pushed his frustration into his running until he could go for almost twenty kilometers without a rest and into the aggressive politeness he wielded during his meetings with Hudson and his staff. _It’s enough_ , he told himself. _It has to be enough._  
  


—  
  


Roy was reading a report that Hudson had asked him to look at, a complex land claim by a group along the northern border. He traced each line with a capped pen because the text was small and dense in meaning and he kept getting lost. The weather had gotten warmer over the past couple of weeks and his study felt hot and humid even in early evening, so he had the window behind him open to the street. A breeze kept blowing the curtains back and they swirled distractingly around his legs, but he tolerated it because it had rained the night before and the world smelled fresh, like ozone and peat.

The phone rang. He thought as he always did about the new connotation a ringing phone had taken on for him: what was once a hassle and the promise of unwanted responsibility now made him jump with excitement and love. He picked up.

“Roy Mustang.”

“Hi, baby.”

Ed’s voice pulled at something tender in his chest like it always did. They hadn’t spoken for a few days and Ed had sounded distracted then, so it was good to hear from him again.

“Dr. Elric,” Roy said absentmindedly, reading until the end of the line he was on. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Ed said, “I’m at the train station.”

Roy dropped his pen.

“You’re—you’re coming _now_?”

“I sure am.”

“For _good_?”

“That’s the plan, isn't it?”

“The trip is—what, twenty hours? Twenty-three? And with the time change, you’ll—Thursday? Friday?”

“Roy,” Ed laughed, “I’m at the train station in _Central_.”

Roy’s head rushed with static.

“You are not.”

“Would I lie to you? Come get me.” Ed laughed again and it was giddy and excited and beautiful.

“You’re being serious. Central _City_?”

“Yes! C’mon!” His voice faded as a train roared into the station. “I’m all yours.”

Roy was already out of his seat.

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

He slammed the phone down and ran. He nearly tripped going down the stairs and rushed out without locking the door, with his coat trailing from one arm. He shouted to flag down a cab and told the driver, “I’ll give you an extra fifty if you get me there in ten.” The driver nodded and floored it.

His heart was in his throat the whole drive, plastered back in his seat from the speed of the car. He got his coat on properly. He’d left his gloves behind. His shoes were untied. Central had never seemed bigger than it did then and his body thrummed with adrenaline, nerves and disbelief. The car screeched up outside the train station and he shoved a fistful of bills into the driver’s hand and ran off. He slipped on the rain-wet concrete, banged through the station doors and sprinted out onto the platform. Several trains had just gotten in and it was bustling and crowded and he searched desperately through the throngs of travellers for Ed.

He saw him: a little figure of brown and gold perched on top of one of the many crates and boxes he had heaped by the tracks. He wore his tan duster and leather boots and his glasses, and kicked his heels against the side of the crate, looking idly at a group of people waiting by the refreshment stand. His hair was scraped back into the low-maintenance knot he kept it in when he travelled and he was an angel, a vision, his _person._ Roy felt as though everything he’d ever done had led up to that moment and remembered stepping off the train in Resembool so many months ago, and how he wished back then that he could sweep Ed into his arms. Seeing him again, he felt like he was switching on after being dormant, blooming, seeing colour for the first time. A glorious downpour at the end of a long, long drought.

Ed spotted him across the platform and beamed, his face flushed. Roy slowed his run to a brisk walk. Ed hopped off the crate.

“Miss me?”

Roy hardly heard him over the rushing blood in his ears and the roaring crowd. He charged up to him and, without breaking his stride, he grabbed his face and pulled him into a crushing kiss, pushed him back against the boxes and devoured him. He felt travellers and their luggage jostle them as they pushed by and he didn't let go.

“You fucking _brat_ —you couldn't have—”

“Surprise,” Ed laughed against his lips. “Nothing if not flashy.”

Roy kissed him until his lungs burned and his mouth was sore and his feet ached from standing. Later, he’d learn that UCA agreed to let Ed replicate his research in their facilities and fast-tracked his transfer, at Ed’s insistence. He would rent a truck to haul Ed’s boxes to his house and they would sit in the foyer for weeks while they procrastinated unpacking. Ed would walk the long way to the university in the morning so he could take the same route as Roy did towards the parliament buildings and they would always stop to get coffee. Roy would insist on taking the left side of the bed. They would talk about getting a dog and they would start their life together. But then, at the train station, Ed dug his hands into Roy’s hair and kissed him. He smelled like diesel, sweat and trains, and Roy came alive.  
  


—

  
  
Roy’s appointment as Minister of Foreign Affairs made page two of the _Central Chronicle_ in May. The photograph they ran was one Roy chose himself, a candid but well-framed shot of him that he felt conveyed a certain amiability and a “man of the people” vibe. In it, he was getting into a shiny black car, smiling at something out of frame with his hand raised in a stately wave. There was someone seated in the car next to him, obscured by his shoulder and the door’s frame and visible only in their tumble of blond hair. If one knew to look, they would notice the hand placed gently on Roy’s thigh. The media had a field day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i could have mentioned this earlier but i imagined ed to be like a neil degrasse tyson level of famous scientist: not exactly a household name but very ubiquitous as far as popular science goes. not stephen hawking, but doing okay for himself. haha
> 
> i have one more fma fic [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8599327/chapters/19720282) if you're sad that this one is over. i also write [ original fiction](http://ronibravo.tumblr.com/post/159940080591) if you're a big fan.


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